


A Cold and Dark Chronicle

by ChibisUnleashed, KamuiWithFangs



Series: The Chronicle Series [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Candle Yin, Creepypasta references, Crossover Cameos - Freeform, Cupid - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate use of Australian accent, Long Flowery Smut, M/M, Moon Alien Baggage Free Zone, Mother Nature - Freeform, Nightmare Before Christmas References, Paul Bunyan - Freeform, Post-Movie, Romance, Slow-ish burn, blue fairy - Freeform, yolo Pitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 214,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamuiWithFangs/pseuds/KamuiWithFangs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Guardians can disapprove all they want, but I didn’t like how our story ended, so I’m doing something about it."</p>
<p>Takes place post-movie. </p>
<p>An exercise in, ‘If they were there, where would they be?’ that follows Jack and Pitch as they figure themselves out when feelings run high, friendships are solidified, and maturity is a passing fad.</p>
<p>All movieverse. Every implication ignored. We set the bookverse on fire and walked away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everybody Get Up It's Time To Rise Now

**Author's Note:**

> This is shameless drivel written for our own amusement. We in no way claim this to be a work of literary art. We are gay women writing mansex and have exactly that much experience with it. Also you probably don't want to read it all in one sitting. Have fun and good luck.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had done this. In fact, Jack could no longer count the amount of times he had found himself here, balanced on a sturdy branch, watching the silent, deep, dark hole in the ground for any sign of anything.

There never was one. The world was in constant motion, between the leaves swaying in the breeze and the critters scurrying over the ground, the sun changing the angle of shadows and the clouds blocking the moonlight… But everything stopped as it neared that hole of nothingness in the ground. It never moved. It never changed. Not for months. Jack would know.

At first he thought he was waiting for the shadows to emerge. He imagined himself to be guarding against the potential threat hidden inside, but that was never what he thought about when he was here. He thought about solitude, and loneliness. He thought about silence and distance. He thought about sightlessness and a lack of touch. He thought about cold and dark.

Jack had to admit to himself it wasn’t guard duty after the first time he had fallen asleep there and wasn’t worried about it when he woke up. He wasn’t here to stop anyone from coming out. If anything, he was here to contemplate going _in._

He hadn’t yet, though. He couldn’t quite talk himself into it. What would happen if he did? What if he didn’t come back out? What would the other guardians think if they knew? What would he think of _himself_ if he-

He didn’t know what he would do. He knew what he would do if he stayed in this tree until the next time he felt the urge to create a blizzard. He had no idea what he would do if he went down the rabbit hole and the curiosity wasn’t enough reason to risk the comfort of the well-known. It wasn’t even a _challenge,_ like North’s shop had been. He knew he could get in. He knew what it looked like. Going in wouldn’t be about sneaking around and causing havoc, it would _just_ be about going in and Jack wasn’t ready for that, yet.

And when his thoughts turned that way, Jack realized he was stupid to have ever thought he was _guarding_ this place. He wasn’t guarding, he was _waiting._ And he had no idea what for, but he figured he would know it when it happened.

And then it happened.

There was nothing significant about the date. It was simply another crisp autumn evening, the sun just setting below the horizon to cast a golden glow over the forest, the last light before nightfall. Nothing out of the ordinary. Soon the night sky would be filled with the little whispers of busy tooth fairies while the Sandman orchestrated his works of art in swirls of dream sand.

No one would have ever guessed the Candle Yin descended from his mountain and traveled to the very spot that was being unknowingly protected by a curious frost spirit.

Kamui didn’t just leave his abode for any reason though. In fact, it’d probably been a good six hundred years since the last time he had, but something was amiss and it needed to be corrected.

Because it was beginning to _irritate_ the solitary dragon spirit.

So there he was standing before a hole in the ground adorned in an oriental robe of white and gold, the image of an intricate dragon seemingly embroidered in the fabric except for the fact that it was actively _moving,_ a snake-like body curling around the slim young man protectively. A pair of mismatched eyes studied the entrance intently for a good long minute…

Until he produced a candle out of nowhere that he braced between his lips and jumped into the unknown darkness.

It was the most fascinating thing Jack had seen since Sandy’s miraculous return from the grave. He had _no_ idea who that man was, but he didn’t look like he was merely lost and looking around. Whoever that was had been _deliberately_ searching out Pitch, for a reason Jack could barely guess at, and if he wanted to know more, know why, know what, he had to _go inside._

Jack didn’t even think about it. He just did it. He slid down from his branch and floated across the clearing to the hole, leaning over to see if the light was still visible from the surface. It wasn’t. He jumped down after the gilded stranger, slowing his descent and watching for that light every second of his fall. If he was going to learn anything, he needed to not be seen.

And he _wanted_ to learn. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to know what the stranger wanted, or if he was hatching another plan. Superficially, of course. Jack really wanted to know how Pitch was. What was he doing? Was he still terrified of his own nightmares? Was he wasting away in the dark? Was he perfectly at ease with his nightmares, now?

Should Jack have come down here months ago, instead of waiting this long?

It was an amazingly odd sensation; sneaking around actually _worrying_ about being seen. Jack had spent so long shouting to the Heavens wishing to be heard that this was… Almost surreal. It was definitely strange, and Jack was utterly paranoid that he sucked at it, given the lack of practice he had.

That didn’t stop him. He was silent enough, gliding on the wind, no footsteps to be heard. He was subtle enough, checking around corners before he turned into the light and only moving forward when he heard the other man’s footsteps receding. He wasn’t an espionage expert, but he was going to find out what was going on, or his center wasn’t fun.

All the winding corridors and staircases in every direction were enough to make anyone dizzy if you didn’t know where you were going. The Nightmare King could have been hiding _anywhere,_ and it could have easily taken years to start tracking him down in his labyrinth. Kamui didn’t have that kind of time. Instead of following any sort of paved path, he followed the shadows. Giant, sprawling shadows with hooves, ears, and tails that frantically scampered across the walls of rock the closer the spirit came with his candle.

He knew he was getting closer when the shadows grew thicker, trying to block his path to what was hidden beyond. Eventually Kamui had to pause when before him were two fully materialized Nightmares, eyes glowing at him scathingly, _warningly._

He passed through both of them, and only winced at the shrieks they made when their dark, sandy bodies made contact with the flame of his candle. The Nightmares dissolved back into shadows, and galloped away from the doorframe to leave him standing before the Boogeyman himself.

Or, at least the shell of one.

Pitch Black had not done well over the course of the last few months. He could barely pick up a damn cup of tea without his hands shaking and considered it a small victory when he was able to finally _finish_ a cup without spiralling down into crippling fear. This time, however, his tea wasn’t being interrupted by the creatures he created that turned on him, and he didn’t know whether to immediately retreat to the shadows he could barely control or be relieved to actually have contact with someone. Someone very powerful, but recognized as a neutral party.

Though he didn’t have the best track record with _neutral parties._ Pitch was only slightly bitter.

But more annoyed by that single golden eye on the Candle Dragon. It was so bright, like sunlight piercing through his darkness, and it gave him a headache. Moreso than the candle he was removing from his mouth in order to speak. He really didn’t need any _help_ feeling weaker than he already was.

“You know I can’t stand that eye, Yin. Mind doing something about it so I can properly express my shock at what in the Stars’ name you’re doing here?”

Kamui tilted his head considerably, then slowly brought a hand up to cover his right eye so only his left was showing, a cool violet that complimented a moonlit night. He always forgot Pitch’s sensitivity to something so minor but he didn’t come into contact with the shadow spirit that often. Or anyone at all really.

“You can’t stay locked up in here again,” the brunette man finally spoke, “The world needs your darkness.”

Meanwhile, Jack was freaking the fuck out.

No one, _none_ of the guardians, could just _walk right through_ those Nightmares. Even Sandy had to _think_ about it before he could change them back to dream sand, and they were _made_ of his dream sand! Jack didn’t dare get any closer, making due with hiding around a wall and staying very quiet so he could listen in. The world _needs_ Pitch’s darkness? Wasn’t the _whole point_ of the battle that the world _really didn’t?_

So this guy _was_ here to help Pitch escape, but it didn’t sound like Pitch was in on the plan. What kind of plan is that? Should Jack head back and tell the others? Although he wasn’t sure what North could do against a guy who just _walks through enemies_ like they _don’t even matter._

Who was this guy? Who is _Yin?_

“Tell me something I _don’t_ know!” Pitch’s laugh was somewhere between bitter and hysterical until he calmed down enough to slowly stand up from the plush chair he’d been occupying, approaching the much shorter, yet _much stronger_ man he loathingly envied right now, “Just what do you propose I do about it? Hm? Do you know how many Nightmares are teeming around this cavern? Do you know how _few_ of those wretched mortals believe in fear and darkness with their new Happy Brigade parading around like every day is egg hunts and snowball fights? It’s not _them_ you’re concerned with, I know, it’s _you._ So what could _you_ possibly want from _me_ that I could actually give?”

Kamui had to admit, this was not the Nightmare King he knew, no where near that mighty being he’d been in the Dark Ages, or the one he almost became six months ago. These new Guardians certainly had done a number on him. “Balance,” he answered calmly, “There is _too much_ light. Even when the sun sets, it’s only dim, not dark. This is _your_ season, and I’m not willing to wait another five hundred years for you to get your strength back and fix this.” Because, damnit, Kamui had earned his rest too and it wasn’t fair it was taken away because a few someones had a vendetta against Pitch Black.

“I’m touched. _Really._ But I will be lucky if it _only_ takes five hundred years to return to the surface again. There was no need to come down here and _remind me,_ ” Pitch snarled.

Kamui was unphased, except for a roll of his eyes. ...Eye. “That isn’t why I came down here. I know the Nightmares are feeding on _you_. You can’t start to recover until you’re able to overcome them.” That was when the dragon spirit reached into his robe, momentarily uncovering his eye, and pulled out a black candle. He made sure to look away from Pitch when he handed it to him, “So take this.”

Pitch was… understandably hesitant to take an object of light from the creature whose job it was to wipe away darkness. ...But he appreciated the color, and studied the simple object in his large hands. “A gift? How thoughtful. Did you chew on this one too?”

Kamui sighed quietly. There was going to be a storm tonight just for that, but he covered his eye so he could fix the taller spirit with an unimpressed look. “You do know it’s little more than an ordinary candle without the bite marks, right? Use it to drive away the Nightmares. They won’t get near you as long as that candle is lit.” Which Kamui promptly did with a little puff of air over the wick.

Pitch was surprised he didn’t find the dim light offensive. Pitch was more surprised that the Candle Yin was _helping_ him, although…

He was still very weak. It was still going to take time to get his power back, and without the presence of the Nightmares, he would be utterly alone. A little more coherent and a little less shaky, but alone. “Will it destroy them?” Betrayed as Pitch felt, they _were_ still his creations.

“No,” Kamui answered, beginning to turn away. His job was finished here as far as he was concerned, “They will be here when you’re ready to take command of them again. Rest up so I can have my turn.” Another pause as he took a step towards the doorway, “By the way, you have another visitor.”

“I know. He isn’t very subtle, is he?”

Kamui made a small noise of agreement before popping his candle back in his mouth and walking out.

At which point Jack practically lost it, because there was no one else they could be talking about except him and _fuck,_ so not only did he suck at sneaking around but they knew he was there the _entire time_ and didn’t even bother to acknowledge him. Way to make a person _not_ feel invisible.

On top of that, it meant they probably had not discussed anything they considered particularly secret or important, because you don’t _do_ that with people eavesdropping on you, except _all_ of it had sounded important to Jack but he didn’t really have time to think about it because _Yin_ was walking away and had known he was following him the whole time.

Well, fuck subtlety. It wasn’t like he was ruining a surprise at this point. Hopping out from behind the wall, Jack gestured with both hands and his staff, “If you _knew_ I was here, why didn’t you _say_ anything?!” Which was probably not the first thing he should ask about, but this creeping feeling of invisibility was the first thing he needed to fix.

Pitch only tsked lightly and wandered over to a table in the middle of the room to pick up a candle holder for his new… “gift”. “If I’d of known to expect this much company in one day, I would have cleaned up for the occasion. Now tell me, Jack Frost, what trouble is my absence causing _you_?”

“Well-” the guardian started, then stopped, then thought about it, then shrugged. He had no answer. Logically speaking, he should be _happy_ that Pitch has been absent. He hasn’t been. But that wasn’t _Pitch’s_ fault, and it didn’t even make sense, and Jack was _certainly_ not going to say anything about that, so shrugging seemed like a good idea, “Strictly speaking, it isn’t causing _any_ trouble. These days, _I_ cause more trouble than you.”

“Hm,” Pitch didn’t sound interested. He had no desire to know how everything was snowflakes and rainbows on the world above while he continued to rot down here lost in his own mind. Down here where Jack _helped_ put him. “And have you come here to make sure it stays that way? Here to break up an alliance between the light and the dark?”

“ _Is_ there an alliance between the light and the dark?” Jack gave Pitch a look of outright confusion, “...What does that even _mean?_ Aren’t the guardians the light? You don’t have an alliance with us.”

The words ‘ _No shit_ ’ came to mind, and Pitch briefly wondered if he would rather be having this conversation, or staring into the Yin’s gold eye. He needed more tea for this. “Yes you and your little friends _spread_ the light wherever you go, but you don’t control the light itself. That’s the Candle Yin’s domain.” Pitch looked over at the naive spirit skeptically, “Were you simply drawn to his light like a moth to the flame? Is that why you’re here?”

“N-” Jack paused, nervously wondering if he actually wanted to finish this word, “no…” Because now he had to answer for why he was _actually_ here, didn’t he? And Jack had no idea. He just knew there was no reasonable way to blame months of staring at a hole in the ground on a guy who just showed up maybe half an hour ago.

Also, _Candle Yin?_ What kind of name was that and what did it mean and what did he do and Jack had far more questions than answers.

“I, uh…” Tired of standing awkwardly near his failed hiding spot, the guardian of fun stepped further into the room and kicked his staff into an idle spin through his fingers with the same motion, “You know, I stop by every once in a while to check on things. make sure there’s still a hole. Make sure it’s still dark and creepy. You can’t blame me for investigating when this time I saw a weird guy with a candle in his mouth jump in, right?”

….

“I never did understand the candle biting thing,” Pitch muttered, the first concrete thought to make it from brain to mouth because… What was he supposed to think? Jack was _checking_ on him? Making sure he was still suffering? Making sure to enjoy every second of the Nightmare King being devoured by his own minions? He hadn’t taken Frost for a _sadist._

Dramatically Pitch spread his arms and did a little half twirl, as if to show off the room that marked his prison, “Everything still appears to be dark and creepy. One Boogeyman reduced from his former glory accounted for. Just make sure to mark in your investigative report that he has a candle now.”

Jack tried not to laugh, which meant it resulted in a strangled snort of amusement that _defined_ the word, ‘undignified.’ He couldn’t help it. That was fucking funny. Thinking quickly, Jack planted his staff on the ground and used it as an uneven step to launch himself up into a seated position on the nearest table, “It’s hilarious that you think I’m reporting to anybody.”

Pitch… couldn’t seem to _stop_ eyeing Jack strangely as the snow-haired boy made himself comfortable in his prison-home. He accepted the fact that he wasn’t intimidating or remotely scary in his weakened state, but they were still _enemies._ If he remembered correctly. “I suppose ‘report’ and a spirit of mischief like yourself have no right being in the same sentence. But you are a Guardian now, correct? Aren’t you going to tell them, or will you just take the candle yourself?”

Jack was half-way into a shrug before he realized he should probably think about his response. Okay, yes, from a duty-bound guardian point of view, telling the others that Pitch now has a candle seems like the appropriate course of action to take. But then, Jack and _appropriate_ have never really gotten along, and the feeling in his heart said Yin wasn’t trying to destroy the world. He said, _“Balance,”_ and Jack was inclined to believe him.

It just made him aware of how little he still understood of spirits and guardians and belief and what the fuck was going on with this planet. Pitch knew more than he did, Pitch was right here, and they were already talking, so…

“Who was that guy? He isn’t a guardian too, is he?”

So perhaps this was an interrogation as well as an investigation. Pitch didn’t get it. Pitch _should_ have been kicking the boy out for his insolence and audacity and the fact that it was _his fault_ Pitch was like this and he thought Frost understood what it was like to be lonely and unseen and…

The spirit of darkness sank heavily back into his chair, resting his cheek on a gracefully posed hand. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, he supposed. Annoying company was better than no company, especially when he was looking at years of pure solitude now. “For his power, I would consider Kamui _above_ a Guardian. The Candle Yin brings the sun’s light to this world every day, and takes it away every night. His eyes control the light and his breath controls the clouds. Normally, he isn’t interested in the affairs of the Guardians, but it seems you and your friends tipped the scales a little too much in your favor.”

Now, Jack had been led to believe the days were decided by the sun and the sun was outside of even their control, but no. No, apparently Jack was just ignorant.

Even that fact could not detract from the pride and accomplishment Jack felt at Pitch’s last statement, though. He grinned and stretched his arms high above him, kicking his feet carelessly before posing with his hands behind his head in the very picture of cocky nonchalance, “All because they added _me.”_

Pitch _hated_ to admit that was true. Even if Jack hadn’t joined him, if he’d remained _neutral,_ he would have been in a very different position today. “Yes. And now you’ve pissed off a cranky Candle Dragon with the ability to withhold sunlight if he so chooses. So if you’ve come here to gloat, you can see yourself out and take up your issues with him.”

“Are you jealous?” Jack wheedled, lowering his hands and slumping casually in his seat. No one had been jealous of him in centuries. It was nice to be recognized as powerful. It was nice to have some believers, finally. It _wasn’t_ nice to get kicked out though, so Jack twirled his staff and glossed over it into the next question, “So what did you used to do for him that he misses so damn bad?”

“Didn’t you hear him?” Pitch asked back, ignoring that first question because Jack was being a brat that just wanted to get under his skin. And it might have been working. “When night falls, it’s dim, not dark. Kamui can only rest when it’s _pitch black._ ”

...Jack was suddenly back to snorting giggles behind his hand. He gasped for air, shook his head, giggled some more, then tried to speak, “You just used _your own name_ as a _figure of speech_ with a _straight face.”_ He gasped again, then begged, _“How?”_

Pitch’s sigh was tiresome, and he irritably kicked at one of the legs of his table just to disorient the boy that was having _way_ too much fun in the lair of fear and darkness. “You make it impossible to forget your age. Now why are you really here, Frost? Don’t you have snowmen to build?”

Oh fuck, the set-up was too perfect. The words were leaving Jack’s mouth before he knew what he was doing, “Do you wanna build a snowman?” He didn’t give Pitch time to answer or even glare at him, smacking himself lightly with the end of his own staff and trying this whole speech thing again, “I mean, I really do just stop by to see if anything’s changed. The way I break into North’s workshop just to aggravate the Yeti. But I’ve never had a reason to come in, before.”

The words felt like something Jack should be more embarrassed to admit, but he wasn’t. Maybe the laughter had gotten to him. Maybe the reassurance that the Nightmares really had been weakening Pitch made him feel safe. Maybe the new belief the children had in him was armor against anything Pitch could throw at him. Or maybe he was just past caring now that he was across the threshold and down here, for good or ill. Whatever it was, talking to Pitch was way easier than it had any right to be.

Strange how that was clearly honest, but still answered nothing. It wasn’t like Jack hadn’t seen the inside of his lair before. Maybe not this room in particular, but all of the interesting objects like the hanging cages and the globe were all out in the front. What was so fascinating about his living quarters? Why did Jack _want_ to break in and why was he still here? He had his Guardians now. He had believers. He no longer shared Pitch’s pain, and yet somehow the cold was drawn to the dark? “Nothing’s changed, Jack. The only difference is the candle.”

“I know,” Jack said, because he did. He was painfully aware that nothing had happened for months. Pitch was just sitting down here, being tortured by his own Nightmares, to the point that other spirits were dropping by to tell him to get it together. It was…

It made Jack think of Antarctica, where he had been all alone because he had fucked up and nobody who had said they cared was going to come for him. Pitch had come for him. With an offer he _still_ thought was a bad deal, but Pitch had still come for him, so maybe he was just returning the favor.

Pitch was looking at the frost spirit expectantly, his hand falling from his face to his lap. Jack knew? Had he missed something? Obviously the boy didn’t do subtlety of _any_ kind, so… “So what do you want from me? We’re still enemies. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done to me, and I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what I’ve done to you.”

Jack sighed. Shit. He really wished he had known more about the situation before coming down here so he could have had a fucking _plan_ for this. Now he was just flying by the seat of his pants, which usually worked out for him, but all the same, didn’t make him feel good.

“Yeah, okay, so you’re a dick,” the frost spirit stated plainly, “I’m kind of a dick, too. And I still don’t want the world to fear me. Scaring is fun, yeah, but not if the kids are too scared to smile, you know? So your plan still sucks. But,” Jack fiddled with his staff lying across his lap anxiously, looking down at his hands briefly to steel his nerves. Where had all that easy talking gone?

“I’m not really any good at outright cruelty and the other guardians live in such a black and white world that they honestly forgot how to be around kids they were so busy _guarding_ them, and that’s not really me either. So you can _call_ me your enemy, but I really think you mean you’re _their_ enemy and _your_ plan sucked and the enemy of my enemy is my friend. What I’m trying to say is, I’m lonely too, and knowing you’re by yourself down here doesn’t make me feel happy and accomplished and proud like the rest of them, so I periodically stare at a dark hole in the ground wondering what the fuck I should do about it and I still don’t know, but here I am."

There now. That was some honesty Pitch could work with, despite the shit ton of emotions and memories it brought with it. His expression remained cautiously blank as he considered what Frost was trying to tell him. So he _didn’t_ think of him as the enemy? Even after trying to plunge the world into darkness and misery? Pitch could agree that most of his resentment lied with the remaining Guardians, but thinking about Jack…

Thinking about Jack made him hurt. It stung like the betrayal of his Nightmares, only worse because there hadn’t been anything to betray in the first place. It was Pitch’s own foolishness that made him think Jack was a kindred spirit.

And yet now Jack was here, telling him he was still unhappy and lonely. It was… actually rather insulting thinking back on how hard the Guardians work to confine him in his personal Hell. “So you’re seeking entertainment? Companionship? And you want it from the one person _you_ decided you wanted to help banish here?”

Jack eyed Pitch with one eyebrow raised like none of the words he said made sense, “I just wanted to make sure kids could still have _fun._ Don’t talk like the banishment and Nightmare shit was _my_ idea. That was _all_ you, Mr. Boogeyman.”

Pitch let out something like a growl and rose from his seat to stalk angrily around the room. He didn’t need these sort of reminders either. Especially not from _Jack._ “You are not blameless in my confinement, Jack Frost, but yes I _know_ it’s my own power keeping me trapped here. That does not entitle you to use me as your personal _plaything._ You’re part of a team now. You have more and more believers giving you strength everyday, and _yes,_ I _am_ jealous. Is this what you’re after?” the Nightmare King accused with his arms held out, “I’ve been granted a device to help keep the Nightmares at bay, but that doesn’t mean my suffering is allowed to end, does it? You’re seeing to it _personally!_ ”

“What do you want from _me?”_ Jack demanded in turn, sliding down from the table and circling to the opposite end of the room, glaring across at Pitch with a challenge in his eyes, “You talk like I have everything I ever wanted by being sworn in, but I _don’t._ You know I turned them down at first, right? I didn’t want work and responsibility and service, and I _still_ don’t. I want _fun,_ Pitch! My center is _fun!_ And it’s no fucking fun being _alone!”_

“Then _why_ are you trying to fix that with the one sentenced to _be alone_ ?!” Pitch argued right back, meeting Jack step for step as they paced around the room like they were about to fight any second now. Not that he had the power to conjure up a measly dagger, let alone his scythe, “You have your precious children! You know there are other spirits out there who can see you! Why come back to _me_ when you already turned me down?!”

“Because, _Boogeyman,”_ Jack stressed, gesturing at him with his staff as if pointing the Nightmare King out to himself would make his point any more valid, “It wasn’t any part of your sales pitch that I had a problem with, just your end game! Fuck, if you have been trying to do _anything else,_ I might have said _YES!”_

Watching Jack get more animated in his gestures only seemed to make Pitch get more animated, because he was shaking his head, balling his fists up near his forehead then lashing his arms out again. Where the _fuck_ was Jack trying to go with this?! “What are you telling me, _Jack_ ? You want to forge an alliance _now?_ Help me reach the surface again? Just what do you think is going to happen when I get my powers back?! I _will_ go back to spreading fear and Nightmares to every living mortal I can reach!”

“Whatever, Pitch. You can do the whole fear thing without the world domination, I’m sure,” Jack rolled his eyes, twirling his staff in a single perfect circle at the same time, “Look, do you _want_ me to leave? Do you _want_ to be alone? Or are you hosting parties down here that I don’t know about? Have tons of friends over every Friday night that I didn’t notice?”

And… Just when Pitch thought they might be going somewhere, he’s promptly derailed. His expression was a solid _not amused_ when he replied flatly, “Oh yes, me and the Nightmares, every Friday. They’re a real riot when they’re not, you know, viciously tearing you apart from the inside just to feed.” The shadow spirit sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes like he was fighting the fatigue of it all or a headache, “You can do what you want, Frost. We all know I _can’t_ stop you like this. Just be aware of the company you’re trying to keep because whether I recover from this or not, I will always be the Nightmare King.”

Jack tried very hard not to smile at the joke. It was just _not the right time._ Instead, he swept his staff in an arc across the floor and spread frost patterns along the stone, instantly making the whole place a safety hazard, “Pitch, seriously, have you met me? Do you know what I do?”

Pitch’s initial response to the frost was to take a step back, the small spike of his fear of being attacked enough to cause at least one of the Nightmares lingering around the doorway to cry out wanting a _taste._ Which only escalated that small spike into a bigger spike and _damnit_ he needed to calm down. Pitch turned to recompose himself, trying to answer Jack with his usual callousness, “...Cause an icy blend of mayhem and chaos wherever you go?”

…”That’s actually a really good description,” Jack mused, passing his staff back and forth between his hands. He smiled mischievously at the Boogeyman, “So I guess a nightmare has been known to kill a person once in a blue moon, but there’s no warning label on dreaming, Pitch. What I do? Snow days, blizzards, iced roads, avalanches, slippery sidewalks and frozen lakes? People will huddle indoors for _weeks_ to escape _me.”_

That made Pitch take a few steps _closer_ to the snow Guardian, an interested glint in his golden eyes as he slowly but gracefully slid across the frost that decorated his home without his consent. “ _And?_ You told me you _didn’t_ want them to fear you, Jack.”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, passing his staff behind his back and holding it there, looking for all the world as if he were just strolling through Pitch’s lair, “Kids _love_ snow days. No school, sledding all day, snowflakes on their tongue, snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels… But adults _hate_ them. They ruin cars, cave in roofs, flood houses, make commuting impossible, people have to shovel sidewalks and roads and, on the off-chance that they’re not prepared, something I just _can’t_ control, they might get lost, lose their way, freeze to death or starve because they can’t get home.”

Jack’s voice had grown quieter and quieter as he spoke, gaze lowering to the floor, watching his feet as they glide over the icy stone, “Fun, _good_ fun, comes at a price. Memories aren’t made by taking no risks. I bring fun, I bring _epic_ fun, but winter is a harsh season, Pitch. My name is as much a warning as a cheer.”

It was surprisingly introspective for the mischievous little frost spirit and Pitch could appreciate that the boy was really _not_ as innocent as he let on. He knew of Jack’s potential, knew it back when he’d made his offer in Antarctica. Just because their battle was over did not mean that the cold and the dark couldn’t work together _beautifully._ “You don’t have to prove your worth to _me_ ,” the Boogeyman started, taking a few more steps across the frost with his hands behind his back, “I know how powerful and dangerous you can be. We are who we are. What I don’t know is what kind of _fun_ you’re looking to have with a broken shadow spirit.”

Jack glared, because the idea that his havoc caused deaths periodically was in no way how Jack counted his own _worth._ In his opinion, his inability to watch out for everyone was a detriment to the fun. Was Pitch even _able_ to understand that? Maybe they couldn’t… Maybe they weren’t as compatible as he had hoped.

“I’m not. I don’t…” Would it be inappropriate for Jack to just smack some fun into Pitch with the end of his staff? That felt like it might be more effective than words. Conversation was hard after three hundred years without it. “I _told_ you. I just followed Yin here on a whim. _Why_ do you keep talking like I had a plan? Are you even _listening_ to me? My point was just that you can’t chase me off with talk of bad dreams. If that’s what you’ve gotta do, I’d be a hypocrite to hold it against you.”

"Your guardians hold it against me," Pitch didn't fail to point out, drawing on the insecurities he'd picked off of Jack in the past. The boy really needed to understand what he was getting himself into. "I wonder what they would think of you now, chatting so amicably with _their_ sworn enemy. It would be in your better interest to continue following the Yin."

"Oh my God, Pitch," Jack sighed exasperatedly, but then suddenly stopped, whole body freezing as his brain struggled to catch up and realize what the Boogeyman was actually trying to _do._ He barked a short laugh, grinning flirtatiously at the tall, dark, and handsome Nightmare King, "I had no idea you _cared_."

That made Pitch whip his head in Jack’s direction, studying that look with equal parts skepticism, confusion, and curiosity. But then he remembered who _he_ was dealing with and shrugged it off. The frost sprite was simply teasing him, and he had to chuckle at himself for being even remotely affected. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jackie Boy. I just don’t want the overgrown kangaroo rabbit in here egging my nice furniture thinking he’s protecting you from being _corrupted._ ”

“Let me get into my own messes, Pitch,” the frost spirit reasoned, tone resolute and a little _resigned_ as he started his pacing back up again, “and when it all goes wrong, you can leave me to clean it up on my own, too.”

… “Are you implying you’re _looking_ to be corrupted?”

That made Jack laugh all over again, “You already _tried,_ remember? And you can’t, because I like to stay true to myself, which is why I’m _here._ The guardians can disapprove all they want, but I didn’t like how our story ended, so I’m doing something about it. If they’re really my friends, if they really have my back, then they’ll make the effort to understand. And if not, well, I don’t see them all that often, anyway.”

Well that was a pity. There had been something concerningly _appealing_ about the idea of corrupting Jack, but it was true- Pitch had already failed that. He’d failed pretty spectacularly. ...Maybe he’d try again when he felt better. “Just what sort of ending are you aiming for, hm? Want me to grovel for forgiveness at your feet?”

Jack rolled his eyes again. Pitch was being _stupid._ “No, Boogeyman, I just don’t want to be a part of sentencing someone to solitary confinement without being really sure that there was nothing else we could do, because, you know, _I know what it’s like.”_

Jack did, and it was sweet of him to reach out, he _guessed_ , but really, “My sentence has already been carried out. Try seeking out Father Time if it’s the past you want to change.”

“So you want me to leave,” Jack stated blandly, fighting the disappointment that wanted to crawl up his spine and show all over his face. This was why he had always hesitated. It had seemed like a damned if he did, damned if he didn’t situation, and he’d been right. “You want me to leave you alone.”

Alone.

How many more decades would Pitch have to spend alone until he could _make something_ of his once revered now shaky and _fading_ existence? He finally thought he’d overcome the solitude. Even if Jack wasn’t on his side, he almost had believers, almost had that constant empowerment and sense of purpose. He had but a taste before it was taken from him, cast back into the lonely shadows. And now even his shadows couldn’t keep him company anymore.

Did he want to be alone? No. Did he want the company of _Jack Frost_ ? That… was a complicated answer. He looked on at the young guardian with envy and anger and vengeance, but there was also connection, an understanding he wasn’t able to share with anyone for centuries. Maybe Pitch _could_ tolerate the company, but he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t also try to wring the little bastard’s neck given the chance.

Sighing, the Nightmare King roamed over to his cabinets, fishing out a couple of tea cups. “No, I can’t honestly say I _want_ to be alone. Would you care for some tea?”

Jack was flooded with so much relief at hearing those words, tension flowing out of his muscles from his shoulders down his back as if he just couldn’t hold himself up straight anymore, that he almost missed the sentence that came after.

“Wait, you drink tea?”

“I find it has a pleasant calming effect when I can actually manage to _drink_ it. Do you prefer coffee?” … A two second pause, and then, “...Although giving a ball of raw chaos like yourself coffee sounds like a monumentally bad decision.”

The way Pitch talked like all of this was normal slowly eased Jack back into the idea of conversation. The hiccup was over, the hill had been climbed, and Jack didn’t have to leave. Hesitantly, almost bashfully, Jack dragged the end of his staff along the floor behind him, leaving frost trails in his wake as he made his way over to Pitch with a creeping, shy smile, “It’s true; I love coffee. But I think it would be unfair to caffeine to blame it for _me.”_

Pitch was already preparing the machine he used on rare occasions for a little variety in spite of his earlier conclusion. Enemy or not, right now Jack was a guest. An uninvited guest, but a guest, and he didn’t mind playing host. “Just don’t freeze anything solid with that restless energy of yours.”

“No promises!” the guardian cheered, hopping up onto the counter and sitting with his knees drawn together. He balanced his staff between his toes, just over the side, and tilted his head to watch what the Boogeyman was doing, “But I’ll _try_ to keep it to just a wet slush, if you’d prefer.”

Pitch made a face as he moved on to the teapot and set it on a single burner, wondering what made him think tempting fate was wise given everything he’d been going through as of late. “That… No. Go outside and make a damn snowman if you can’t keep it in your staff.”

Jack could not help the snickering the phrase, ‘if you can’t keep it in,’ brought out of him. It was terribly juvenile, but fuck it. He was forever eighteen. Pitch would just have to deal. When he finally got his breath back, he teased, “You talk about snowmen more often than I do. Was something missing from your childhood? Do we need to relive it? I can help with that; I’m something of an expert.”

Pitch turned to look at the young spirit boredly now that he had nothing to do but wait for their beverages to heat up. There may have been a small smirk on his lips watching Jack clearly having way too much fun now that he more or less had been given permission to stay. “You’re something of a _brat_ is what you are.”

“You better believe it,” and with implicit permission came testing the waters, or Jack Frost wasn’t Jack Frost. He boldly reached over and nudged the Nightmare King’s shoulder, not enough to endanger their drinks, but enough to prove that he _could,_ “How is it _my_ fault that I died within two decades on this earth, huh?”

Jack’s touch was cold, colder than _he_ usually was, but somehow Pitch didn’t find his touch offensive. Only that haughty little attitude. The Boogeyman crept closer so his shadow eclipsed over the winter spirit. “It is possible to be within two decades old and _not_ a brat, but you obviously enjoy your brat status too much.”

Jack widened his eyes and tilted his chin so that he was looking imploringly up at Pitch, one hand pressed solemnly to his chest as he apologized with his _most serious_ voice, “I’m sorry I’m not the guardian of maturity.”

Pitch smirked and hummed thoughtfully. He really should not have been enjoying their bantering this much. Was it a side effect of Jack’s playful nudge? “You certainly wouldn’t be _here_ if you were at all mature. But as I said, you are who you are, Jack Frost, and I accept that.”

“Do you?” Jack asked, honest curiosity all over his expression. They were nice words, and he would like to believe them, but everyone he met wanted him to be _just a little bit_ different than he was, guardians included, Bunny most of all. Even Pitch had been talking about _corrupting_ him, as if he needed to be corrupted, as if he wasn’t already a thorn in everyone’s side. So it was a fair question, as far as he was concerned. “Are you sure? Because you seem dissatisfied with my lack of malicious intent and violent desire. Are you sure you accept that I don’t actually _want_ to hurt people, that it’s just an inconvenient side-effect of everything else I like to do?”

Pitch’s expression sobered just a bit, but he didn’t move away. Not until he heard the tea kettle, and then he broke his intent stare with those brilliant blue eyes, “I’ve had plenty of time to accept it since Antarctica. I’ll admit, I still indulge in thoughts of what we could have had, but you’ve made your intentions clear. A partnership between us would not have worked.”

Jack took his staff back between his hands, fingers climbing up and down the shaft to give them something to do, some way to expend his nervous energy. Was he really about to say what he wanted to say? They were the first words to pop into his head, but he hasn’t had time to think them through, but Pitch looked so _earnest,_ then and now, and that sculpture had been fucking _beautiful,_ if dark and terrifying. That was just the way of art, sometimes.

“Maybe we… You and I… Maybe we could have something else.”

….Pitch had just _admitted_ his penchant for fantasy in regards to the idea. Jack should _not_ have been throwing him more fodder for it. It was _unfair._ Jack’s rejection had been cold and swift like one of his many blizzards, so why this now?

He must have been teasing again. Pitch somewhat restlessly went about pouring the boy his drink and handed it over along with a container of sugar. Somehow he had the distinct feeling the snowy imp was fond of _sweet_. “Such as… coffee and conversation?”

Jack did, in fact, add sugar to his coffee. Not as much as North, but with North it was more like adding coffee to his sugar, so no big accomplishment there. He also wanted some cream, or milk, or both. He started shuffling through the containers on the counter looking for some, “Well actually, I was thinking more roller coasters and freak storms, but if you wanna start tame, I understand.”

The Nightmare King chuckled, fixing his tea to his liking and somehow thinking nothing of the way Jack was raiding his small kitchen like it belonged to him. ….Actually, he _should_ have been concerned, or at least calling the boy out on it, but he was much more interested in what Jack was saying than doing. “Why Jack. Are you proposing we ... _playfully_ terrorize the youth?”

“Pitch, for future reference, my decision-making process tends to be very short,” he finally found some creamer and dumped a little too much in before crossing his legs and settling his staff to lean against his ankles so that both hands were free for cradling the cup, “I ask myself, ‘Will it be fun?’ and if the answer is, ‘yes,’ then I do it. Terrorizing kids is _so much fun,_ as long as we can all laugh about it later. I told you before, your sales pitch was great. It was your end game I had a problem with.”

“Mm,” Pitch looked off distantly as he took his first sip with a _steady hand._ Amazing what a little candlelight and company could do for a tormented soul. “Unfortunately your proposal also contains some problems. If everyone is laughing about their fear afterwards, that leaves nothing to feed on. The Boogeyman can’t exist that way.”

That had not occurred to Jack, but then none of this was planned, so… He hid behind his cup for a bit, watching Pitch with his tea and thinking about what he said, “What _do_ you need, then?”

“Same as you and your Guardians,” Pitch smiled around the rim of his tea cup, “Believers. Sure, it helps if the kids _want_ to be scared, but it’s for the sake of fun, not because they believe in the Boogeyman. Don’t you remember your Jamie? He believed, but he wasn’t _afraid,_ and that inevitably made him _stop_ believing.”

Of course Jack remembered Jamie. Jamie was amazing. Jack would never _forget_ Jamie as long as Jack still… existed.

But it was true. As soon as all of the kids were happy again, Pitch had been robbed of his believers and reduced to nothing. It had to be done, though. Pitch had more or less killed Sandy and _no one_ in the whole _world_ was having a single night of good dreams. Everyone has nightmares sometimes, but every time they fall asleep? It was just too much.

Yin had been right to look for _balance._

Still behind his cup, Jack raised an eyebrow, “Did it honestly not occur to you that kids can fear the dark even during the day?”

“What are you talking about, Jack?” Pitch asked with an arched eyebrow of his own, “Of course. A good nightmare can leave a child terrified for _many_ days _._ But not if they write it off with a laugh.”

Jack shook his head, “You wanted to make the whole world dark all the time.” He snorted with a sudden burst of amusement, “ _Pitch black,_ in fact. But that’s ridiculous. Really, if Yin is pissed _now…_ Do you think kids are thinking about me when it’s summer, Pitch? Do you think they bundle up in scarves and make jokes about Jack Frost when it’s hot enough to fry an egg on the asphalt? They don’t have to think about you _all the time._ Belief is an idle thing. Don’t you know that?”

“Too well,” Pitch scoffed, his humor slowly fading with Jack attempting to _lecture_ him, “You and the others have it so easy. A change in the season or a significant event able to trigger a massive burst of belief all at once. So massive that the Bunny and the jolly man only need that burst _once_ a year to sustain the power they have. But fear? With all the _hope,_ and _wonder,_ and _fun_ saturating the world, fear is easily overcome and shrugged aside. No one _seeks_ to experience their fear again, so I have to continuously up the ante if I’m to feed on anything and make them believe there _is_ a reason to be afraid. You can’t really blame me for getting a little power hungry when I started getting somewhere, can you?”

“With how belief-starved I feel? No, I can’t blame you,” Jack agreed, sipping at his coffee between sentences for an excuse to stop and consider himself, “But the thing is, Pitch, you have an event trigger _every fucking night._ Darkness falls and light fades and _things happen._ I’ve _seen_ them. Pitch, it’s easy to be afraid of the dark. Even _I’m_ afraid of the dark! It’s _instinct_ and you’re a part of that! So why are you...” Jack swallowed thickly, wondering if it was really such a good plan to give the Boogeyman ideas, especially ideas about his own personal fear, “And you _can_ give nightmares. You should be just as effective as Toothiana and Sandy. Maybe you should stop playing long games and live in the moment for a while.”

“At the moment, I don’t have much of a choice,” Pitch conceded, a slow smile creeping along his lips. It was, frankly, _adorable_ Jack was playing consultant to his ‘fear drought’, and his insight was thoughtful, if not misguided. Was Frost really that interested in making something work between them? How curious. “I don’t have the power to begin the slightest attempt of blanketing the world in darkness. I can’t even control my own Nightmares yet. My only option is to generate a small trickle of sustaining fear, one believer at a time, just like before.”

Jack gave him an odd look and lowered the coffee from his lips, “Is that what you tell yourself every time? I mean, I haven’t been around long enough to know, but it sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“I have, Jack. Didn’t they tell you about the Dark Ages? I almost had the world in the palm of my hands then too.”

“So, this plan has failed before, but you decided to try it again anyway?”

“Because I perfected the technique of converting the Dream Sand. And then I met you.”

“I do have a nasty tendency to foil well laid plans,” Jack conceded with a sagely nod, “I’ve been told I make a mess wherever I go.”

Pitch shook his head with a little laugh. “That’s not what I meant, although it is _true._ I meant, I had the Dream Sand and I saw your potential. I knew that if I could get you to join me, we would have been unstoppable.”

Jack wasn't sure how he felt knowing that he was such an important chess piece on the board. Like both kings fighting over the only queen. Was Jack really that powerful? Was he unstoppable by himself, or only with the guardians? With Pitch? Did he _want_ to be unstoppable?

Jack found he didn't care. He was just distracting himself from the disappointment of having it confirmed that Pitch had been after his power, not his self. He should have known, but that sales pitch had been _really damn good..._

"But I don't want what you want."

"You made that perfectly clear already," Pitch replied in a soft, somber tone. The rejection still stung. He remembered getting his hopes up watching Jack consider his offer, only for them to be crushed moments later. It wasn't something he was going to forget for a good long while. "Although I don't know what it is you _do_ want. You belong now. You have a family of Guardians, and here I remain an outcast. You chose well for yourself."

Jack shook his head, “I chose well for the children.” That decision hadn’t really been about himself. After all, Pitch was promising believers. Jack had no such promise from the guardians at the time. He had been helping children believe firmly in the other guardians. Even when Jamie had finally realized he was there, it was in the process of reaffirming belief in Bunny.

Jack was just a selfless kind of guy.

Which was, again, why he was _here._

“I want you to not be alone,” the guardian stated resolutely, “Call it insurance or an experiment or guard duty if you need to justify it. Maybe you won’t try to take over the world if you have someone to talk to. But really, I just don’t like it. Manny knew I was alone for three hundred years and just didn’t have a reason to talk to me. I know you’re alone down here, and not having a reason isn’t going to make me stay silent. I don’t want to abandon you the way I was abandoned, for no better reason than _I just don’t like it.”_

“A bleeding heart, aren’t you Jack Frost,” Pitch mumbled before another sip of his tea, “I anticipate you’ll grow bored soon enough and move onto the next broken spirit that crosses your path, but do as you wish.”

Jack gave the most dismissive, disrespectful, unconcerned shrug the world has ever seen and mumbled into his own cup, “If you’re so worried about it, then just don’t be super boring, Pitch.”

“Sorry Jackie Boy, but I have orders from the Candle Dragon to try and pull myself back together before winter’s end. I don’t think I have the energy to keep you entertained for an indefinite amount of time.”

Jack’s lips twitched, as if he was trying to supress the smile that bloomed a second later, before it transformed into a grin that inevitably took on a darkly amused edge, “It’s funny that you instinctively assume that yourself pulled together is automatically, definitely going to be boring.”

“Hardly!” Pitch defended with a laugh, “Only the _best_ kind of fun happens at night and once I have it on my side again, there won’t be a dull moment.” It was a promise the Nightmare King made with a smirk and a predatory leer in the obnoxious sprite’s direction, but he then relented with a flashy wave of his hand, “It’s the pulling myself together that’s going to be boring. The moment I lie down, I’m probably going to sleep like the dead for at least a week.”

Jack instantly loved the flashy hand wave. It was so flashy. And it was just a hand. Jack worked hard to be that flashy with his staff, but he could never do it with his bare hand. That level of flashy was admirable.

The grin became more of an idle smirk, the kind of thing that was on his face because it had to be when his thoughts were what they were. He tilted his head and considered Pitch indulgently, like the Boogeyman was a particularly cute kid doing something everyone else knew wouldn’t work, “I’m sorry, did you think I was planning to be here every second of every day to keep you company? I still have snow days and skiing to attend to. Go ahead and sleep.”

“I expected no such consideration, nor do I ever expect you to return,” the Boogeyman confessed lightly, finishing the last of his tea and setting his cup aside, “It’s been… interesting to say the least, Jackie Boy. Maybe one day I can show you a thing or two about sneaking around so you can successfully break into some other spirit’s home.”

“Somehow I don’t think your methods will work for me,” Jack said before he tipped his coffee back and drained it. As much as he wasn’t done here, it sounded like Pitch wanted to start on that sleep thing and Jack didn’t want to keep him from it. “See you in a week, then?”

Pitch smiled a hollow smile. It was a nice fantasy, _another_ one, to think of someone waiting for him. Because they cared and they _wanted_ to spend their time with him. Because even if it wasn’t on a grand scale, he had that sort of significance to _someone._

He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t give truly insidious nightmares to the child or spirit that ended up taking up Frost’s time after him. “Whatever you say. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you to _have fun_ out there.”

He didn’t. Jack could tell Pitch really believed he wasn’t coming back, and that just turned it into a challenge. Jack liked challenges. He was definitely going to be here a week from now.

With a much brighter smile than the Nightmare King was wearing, Jack waved as he hopped down from the counter. There was all kinds of irony in his expression when he said, “Sweet dreams!” before letting the wind carry him up and out of the lair.

 

* * *

 

Jack was _excited._ And that was how he knew for sure that what he was doing was the right thing for him. He had been uncertain and worried and torn in two for months, and now he was happy and nervous in the best way, waiting for a week to go by so he could harass Pitch all over again.

Upon entering the lair, though… Jack realized he had no idea where Pitch’s room was without Yin to follow around. He loitered for a few minutes, floating this way and that, hoping for something to look familiar, when irritating neighing and hoofbeats caught his attention. He knew those sounds. They were still terribly familiar even so long after the battle.

So he followed those instead, and they led him right back to Pitch’s rooms, specifically his bedroom, where the Nightmares were kept at a distance by some unseen force that Jack realized _had_ to be Yin’s candle. He was glad to know it was working. And had exactly zero compunction keeping him from just bursting through the door and investigating everything on the other side.

He might not have if Pitch had been awake to stop him, but upon entering the room, Jack saw the Boogeyman was still nestled sweetly in his blankets, dreaming away, and that was horrendously cute and terribly convenient and Jack wondered what was under the _Boogeyman’s_ bed, if not the Boogeyman himself?

...It was a kind of super normal bedroom, all things considered, and Jack’s curiosity waned quickly. Investigating drawers wasn’t fun when you didn’t actually care what you found in them so he stopped almost as soon as he started and did something he never grew tired of instead: drawing frost patterns on everything.

The floor had ice thick enough to slide across, the mirror had an artistic interpretation of the Boogeyman from that 1993 movie etched on its surface, and the ceiling had an ambitious, personally challenging icicle chandelier suspended in the most dangerous way possible before Jack finally turned his attention back to Pitch in the bed and crawled in beside him. He sat up to reach down with his staff and cover the footboard with stuck snowflakes, then turned and did the same thing to the headboard, then set his staff aside when he snuggled down to lay on the covers and slowly trail his fingers over the pillows and blankets, leaving frost trails reminiscent of drunk bumblebees behind them.

When the whole fucking bed was covered and Pitch still wasn’t awake, Jack went ahead and frosted the last unfrosted thing in the room: the Nightmare King himself.

It made the Boogeyman suck in a sharp gasp from the unexpected chill, rolling over onto his side into what felt like freshly fallen snow. It didn’t bother him. Pitch preferred cold sheets to fall asleep on.

But it instinctively made him reach for something to hold onto as well, and when his fingers brushed over a soft cotton material, Pitch immediately pulled it to his chest with his lanky arms to resume his slumber. Were he of a more sound, _awake_ mind, he might have realized that the plush cotton thing was not actually making him any warmer, but it felt nice. Like sinking into the embrace of crisp, frosty night…

A snickering, snorting frosty night. Jack desperately tried to stifle the sounds with a hand over his mouth, but it was a lost cause. “Oh man,” Pitch was _too God damn cute,_ “you’re going to be so fucking embarrassed when you wake up.”

The noise was a little bit harder to ignore in his haze. He needed to _stop that._ So one of Pitch’s hands started groping and feeling over cotton searching for the off button. ...And then it hit him that his plush thing was awfully lumpy, and now too much wasn’t making sense for him to rest peacefully. A thin slit of silvery-gold began to reveal itself under heavy eyelids.

…

One could practically hear the gears turning.

…

To his credit, Pitch only let the expression of _sheer horror_ expose itself for less than a minute before he groaned irritably and brought his extra touchy hand up to hide his face. Yeah. Yeah okay he was awake now. “It’s…” And his voice sounded extra gravelly from his long slumber, so there was no way he could be smooth about this, “It’s actually you, isn’t it Jack.” It wasn’t a question.

“Uh huh,” the frost spirit confirmed, making no move whatsoever to detangle himself or even put distance between them. He was way too amused by the situation to do anything that could be interpreted as helping Pitch get out of it, and even better, Jack kinda liked being cuddled. He didn’t get that treatment very often and he wasn’t too proud to take it from the Nightmare King. Especially since it wasn’t _his_ pride in question, here, “It’s been a week. Did you really sleep the whole time?”

Pitch just groaned again, a deep rumbling noise in his chest as he rubbed at his eyes still half convinced this was some sort of cruel prank by the Sandman. ....It felt like something too nice to be by one of his Nightmares, and stranger yet, Jack was still letting it happen.

... _Pitch_ was still letting it happen. “Did you really crawl into bed with the Boogeyman?...” he asked back, trailing off into a yawn.

Jack kind of liked Pitch’s voice like this, all low and drawl-y and not scary or creepy at all. And he wasn’t too warm against Jack’s side. Really, Jack Frost was very comfortable here. He wouldn’t have thought anything was weird at all if Pitch hadn’t phrased things like that.

Because… “Yeah, I guess I did. It was the only thing left un-iced.”

Oh fuck.

The words gave Pitch pause, and there was only so much groaning he could do before he just sounded downright pathetic, so he settled for a deep, regretful sigh, “I don’t want to see what you did to my room, do I.” That also wasn’t a question.

“I dunno,” Jack shrugged unapologetically, “I was pretty impressed with myself.”

“You built a snowman, didn’t you.”

It was Jack’s turn to widen his eyes in horror. What a lost opportunity. “Shit, no I didn’t, but I _really_ should have. Fuck.”

Well, that at least made Pitch feel a little better about himself, all things considered. He chuckled, a small huff against the top of snowy white hair, and then rolled on his back to begin the process of stretching out his limbs after _days_ of remaining blissfully horizontal. With one leg off the side of the bed, and his arms at either side of his head, Pitch let reality slowly come back into focus. Reality greeted him with an inverted spire of ice daggers hanging precariously over his vulnerable body. “...That is rather impressive.”

“Right?” Jack cheered excitedly, turning away from watching Pitch stretch to gesture with his hands at all of his favorite parts, “The center is hollow to lessen the weight, which is still way difficult for me to do. I was trying _really hard_ to get it to stay up there with only super thin threads of ice holding it up, so a lot of engineering went into that thing.” His voice quieted when he tilted his head, as if considering the work of art all over again, looking for ways to improve it next time, “I was going for one of those perspective tricks; a snowflake from the bottom, a tree from the side. I think I missed, but it’s still pretty. Too bad it’s going to melt.”

Jack’s boyish enthusiasm over his creation was charming, and Pitch tilted his head to study the sculpture further. He was reminded of Antarctica again, where the gorgeous sculpture _they_ made was probably still standing tall, as invincible as their partnership that never was.

But then another thought occurred to him that prevented him from pondering that further. Pitch made a face. “That is too bad. Because it’s going to do it all over my bed.”

Jack turned to look at him, “Are you seriously worried about the moisture content of your bed? Because the chandelier is the least of those problems, now.”

…. “So I’m going to need a new bedroom.” Funny that Pitch wasn’t more upset about this.

Jack rolled his eyes, “I don’t think it’ll do _that_ much damage. It’s just water.”

“Mm,” Pitch hummed quietly, staring at the sculpture for a few lingering, lazy seconds before he propped himself up on his elbows to take in the rest of his room. Or rather, his brand new ice rink. Jack certainly knew how to make an impression.

And really, as tedious as it was going to be to dry out _that much_ water where he was underground and the air was stagnant, Pitch was still in a pleasant daze after some much needed rest. That, and Jack… Jack had come back like he was so sure he _wouldn’t_ , and the frost spirit was just as playful and easy around him as he had been a week ago. It gave him such an odd twinge in his chest, such a relieved feeling to not wake up alone. Riding on that high, no, Pitch didn’t really give a damn about water damage. “Well I suppose there’s no point in waiting it out here for it to dry,” the shadow man reasoned with a newfound energy at his core. He lept up to his feet, and even with the inches of solid _ice_ beneath them, managed to ease into a smooth glide a few feet away from the bed frame.

Jack rolled to the other side of the bed and grabbed his staff, asking the wind to pick him up and toss him over to where Pitch was currently standing, “You’ll want to take the candle. The Nightmares were gathered right outside your door when I arrived. They wanted in pretty bad.”

“I’m sure they did,” Pitch remarked, seemingly uninterested with what he knew to be fact and made no move towards his candle. He did slide his way over to the ornate mirror nearby, took note of the crude little frost drawing with a smile, and preoccupied himself searching along the frame from where it stuck out against the wall. Specifically the _shadow_ in the space between.

The Nightmare King tried _not_ to grin too maniacally when he had his findings, when his hand effortlessly sunk _in_ like that darkness was an extension of himself. Oh, but he really needed a proper test…

“Let’s see what we have to work with,” the impossibly tall man mused, more to himself than Jack as he scanned his surroundings. Being the Boogeyman, his eyes couldn’t resist the bed for long, so that was what he locked on. And then he remembered the ice beneath his feet and figured why the fuck not? Pitch backed up to put as much distance between himself and the bed as possible, shot the youngest Guardian a quick smirk, then took off in a full sprint _towards_ the space that had been his home for the last seven days. Over the halfway mark, Pitch lowered himself into a crouch and let the lack of friction send him coasting closer and closer to the bed, seconds from crashing underneath it. But the moment he reached the shadow of the mattress over the floor, Pitch’s whole body was swallowed up in it and he was gone like the spectre he was renowned to be. Only the shadows remained.

Until he resurfaced seconds later through another shadow. _Jack’s_ shadow. Pitch slowly, _silently_ loomed to his full height while the boy’s back was turned and leaned in to chuckle darkly near his ear, “I’m feeling _so_ much better…”

“HOLY FUCK,” Jack screamed, jumping into the air and _staying there_ in his fright. He turned on a dime, just barely pulling back his staff before he beat the shadowman into submission with it, substituting his bare hand at the last second because Pitch really deserved _some_ smacking around for sneaking up on him like that.

Not that it wasn’t _awesome,_ because it was. It was _really, really_ awesome and there was a bright smile on Jack’s face before his heartbeat had even settled from the scare. Slowly, his body eased into a posture less primed for fight or flight, feet pressed against his staff, the rest held tight against his chest, cheek settled on the top of the crook, “I take it you’re feeling better?”

Pitch threw his head back and laughed, a truly delighted sound even after fending off Jack’s mini-assault that he supposed he deserved. Maybe. He followed it up with another little twirl around the ice feeling like a brand new Nightmare King, only further rejuvenated with the taste of Jack’s short-lived fear seeping into him. “ _So_ much better than I expected to be. Thank you for the snack,” he winked.

Jack’s head snapped up and he blinked at the Boogeyman, before he gave an incredulous laugh, “Oh fuck, Pitch, are you _flirting_ with me? God damn, you move fast.” His hands slid along his staff, pulling it higher so that he could safely spin the crook between two fingers without smacking himself in the face with it, “Although I guess we were already in bed together, so maybe _I_ move fast?... But you know what’s cool? You’re having _fun._ I wouldn’t call it a _snack,_ but…”

“It’s been a long six months, Jack,” Pitch offered, finally approaching his nightstand to pick up the candle that had allowed him to get back to even _this_ point, “And your fear happens to taste particularly _good.”_

“And your fun is refreshing,” Jack replied with a shrug, not seeing why Pitch felt the need to defend himself with any of that. It wasn’t like he was offended. Pitch was allowed to jump scare him all he wanted, as long as he accepted the consequences of shocking a powerful guardian prone to lashing out with frost lightning. Jack refused to be held responsible for that. Responsibility wasn’t really his thing.

Armed with his candle, Pitch stalked his way back towards the frost spirit finding the boy’s presence so oddly comforting right now. “Last time I checked, you and your Guardians had an issue or two with my fun.”

“I can’t speak for the others,” Jack offered fairly, gesturing placatingly with his staff, “but my problem was, again, the whole take over the world, make everything dark, keep everyone in a constant state of fear thing. Constant states of fear are no fun. But if you remember, Pitchy, Bunnymund also had a problem with my fun. Still does, sometimes. So stop moping.”

“Hah!” Pitch leaned in so the challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, “ _Make me,_ Jackie Boy.” Although he didn’t remain there long, turning away before he could get hit with a snowball in the face, and changed the subject, “Should I be expecting your friends anytime soon, by the way? I’m sure you told them about Kamui by now.”

Jack paused, hand behind his back already forming one of his signature snowballs. “That’s Yin, right?” Was he _supposed_ to have told the Guardians about all that? He had sort of decided last time that as long as Pitch wasn’t trying to take over the world, it wasn’t really Guardian business. Apparently Yin was outside of the Guardians’ sphere of influence, anyway, so what could they do? While Pitch was still turned away, Jack blew on his snowball then hid it again, “I didn’t, actually. And it’s not like you’ve even left your hole. What’re they gonna do? Plug it?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them. After all, I can tell some of the Nightmares have left here in search of someone else to feed on now that they can’t get to me,” Pitch said in a distant tone, his mood sobering as he looked at the doorway. How much power _had_ he gained back? He was nowhere near the level he’d like to be, obviously, but maybe…

The elder spirit turned back to Jack and held out his candle. “Here. Hold onto this for me.”

Jack was officially out of hands. There was no way he could take the candle in the same hand as his staff without drawing attention to the hand behind his back that _should_ be empty but isn’t. So he did the only thing that made sense. He pegged Pitch in the face with the snowball, then promptly took the candle out of his hand, “Sure, no problem.”

“Augh!” Pitch sputtered, arms coming up far too late to do anything for him except wipe the snow out of his _eyes._ This was bound to happen hanging out with the snow imp. That didn’t mean it was a _pleasant_ experience no matter what the laugh building in the back of his throat was supposed to be. “You’ll pay for that, Frost!”

“Hit me with your best shot,” Jack taunted, floating back and out of punching range, “That’s why they’re called snowball _fights.”_

Pitch only grumbled, shaking the snow out of his hair and the chill out of his skin. If only he could be sure summoning the shadows for a counterattack wouldn’t knock him out again. He’d just get the boy back when he least expected it, which was exactly Pitch’s style. “You’d better watch your _back_ then. Just you wait.”

“Wait,” Jack said suddenly, lowering to the floor so that he could be grounded in the mild excitement threatening to rise in him, “Did you just declare war?”

“ _You’re_ the one who attacked first. It will not go unpunished.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Jack tried again, gesturing with both hands despite the staff and candle, as if they didn’t even matter as much as the words he needed to say, “this means you and I have entered the long game of prank fights and are now open season for each other so long as we expect and respect retaliation?”

“Hmph,” Pitch smirked, idly pondering what rare brand of insane he must have been infected by to be encouraging this behavior, “I considered the game on back when you threw that snowball in my face six months ago.”

“Seriously?” Jack asked, smile widening even though the rest of his face looked like he couldn’t believe this was happening to him, “We’re really at war?”

That look on Jack’s face only made it harder to say no, and the laugh was going to escape him any second if Pitch wasn’t careful. “ _Absolutely_.”

That word, said like Pitch had _zero_ doubts about what he was saying, was like fucking _music_ to Jack’s ears. _“Finally!”_ he crowed, hugging his staff close and only remembering via primitive brain not to also hug the candle. He was beaming, curled into himself like he thought he could keep his excitement in, but that was a lost cause.

Jack had _seen_ prank wars, heard shared stories over drinks of prank wars, even been a part of getting somebody back in a prank war, but always on the sidelines because nobody could see him for so long and the rest of the Guardians just didn’t have _time_ for that kind of thing, but _Pitch…_ He exploded with a laugh, too excited to _not_ fling his arms wide in a celebration of intent.

_“Somebody_ who knows how to have _fun!”_

That sealed it. Pitch had to laugh right along with him at those all too familiar words. He didn’t know how much was teasing or how much was pure, unadulterated excitement, but the Nightmare King found it entertaining either way. He would give Jack his prank war, no holds barred.

As soon as he was able to freely roam the surface again. “You know, I had that very exact thought about you when we first squared off.”

“Really?” The frost spirit looked up at him, eyes alight with lingering awe. He was going to get to prank somebody however much he wanted and instead of lectures or anger or disapproving looks, he’d just get pranked right back. It was going to be _amazing._ But through the haze of anticipation, Jack realized that when he and Pitch had first met in battle, Jack had still been wondering what his center might be. It was a little disconcerting that his enemy at the time might have known his core better than he did. All the same, Jack having fun was news to nobody and only North had bothered to pull him aside and question his motives, so he was probably overthinking it.

A lot. “No surprise that I turned out to be the Guardian of it then, huh?”

“None whatsoever,” Pitch agreed, his smile morphing into something dark before he confronted the doorway again, “Just be aware of who you’re up against, Jack.”

“I’m sorry,” the frost spirit supplied, tone anything but, “which one of us fell asleep in the Bat Cave and woke up in the Fortress of Solitude?”

“Which one of us shrieked like a frail maiden and _forgot the damn snowman_?”

The reminder had Jack making a sound somewhere between a groan of frustration and a shout of rage but resulted in shoving the candle between his teeth where it acted as a kind of gag through which he ranted, “You wanna build a snowman? We’ll build a fucking snowman,” as he made his way over to the bed and waved his staff to start up some indoor snow.

“Give it up, Jackie Boy, the moment’s passed,” Pitch taunted, officially dubbing his bedroom a lost cause at this point. If anything, he needed to get back to the surface to start gathering the materials for a new bed frame, but he wasn’t going to be able to do that until he knew for sure if he’d lose all of his Nightmares once he did. “I have some business to tend to.”

...Jack stared at the thin layer of snow for a few more seconds before shrugging and turning around, pulling the candle back out of his mouth, “Eh, it’ll take a little while to pile up before we’ll have enough snow, anyway. So seriously, why am I holding this candle?”

“Because I need to know how much I have to rely on it,” came the reply before Pitch took a breath and opened the door where his hungry Nightmares were waiting. He didn’t wait for Jack.

There were four stomping irritably right outside that paused when Pitch made himself known. One of them snorted, another whinnied, and then _all_ of them hitched up on their hind legs and charged towards the Nightmare King, a fifth and sixth rising up from the shadows to join in. Pitch steeled himself for the collision that would let him know for sure how weak he still was, and how much work he was looking at for the next few years. At least he could say he didn’t feel _afraid._

It took only seconds for the Boogeyman to be surrounded by aggressive masses of black sand.

It took Pitch a few _extra_ seconds to realize he _wasn’t_ being swallowed whole and carried off into unknown darkness.

He blinked once, then twice down at the Nightmare that was nudging into his chest, another nosing into his hand, and a third nibbling on the sleeve of his robe. Sure being so close to a creature that fed on your deepest and most subtle fears wasn’t always the most comfortable of scenarios, and given the recent history of betrayal, Pitch was wary of every move, but if he didn’t know any better…

These creatures seemed to have missed him as much as he missed _them._

When yet another mare stuck its snout pointedly under his arm so as to not be neglected, Pitch smiled softly and caved in, leaning over to pet and dote on each and every one.

Jack was staring with his jaw somewhere near his feet.

One week. _One week_ made _this_ much difference? Weren’t they supposed to be… Jack didn’t know. Eating him alive or something? Definitely not nuzzling his chest like that and, fuck, was Pitch _nuzzling back?_ There was _a lot_ of nuzzling going on there and Jack wasn’t sure how he felt about it, except…

It was kind of really fucking cute. It reminded him of kittens or puppies or itty bitty bunnies or baby foxes or little bears all investigating the world by shoving their faces in things except they were vicious fear-inducing doom horses and things were Pitch.

Jack just barely managed to close his mouth.

...And then tried for speech, voice a little higher than usual, “Were they always like this?”

Pitch straightened at the voice, momentarily forgetting his “audience”, but his hands remained busy stroking manes and ears and underneath chins because he couldn’t tear himself away. This feeling of being wanted _that much_ was likely to be the end of him someday, even if it only ever came from manifestations of his own power. “What? Fiercely loyal to their master?” Pitch asked lightly, watching as a seventh came speeding down into the corridor and immediately got its share of the nuzzling, “Only until their food source was narrowed down to _one_.”

“No,” Jack’s tone was weak, like he couldn’t believe he had to clarify this after such a dramatic statement, _“Cuddly._ I meant were they always this cuddly.”

Pitch chuckled from where he had his cheek resting on black mane, “Absence does make the heart grow fonder. Or in this case, the sand.”

The youngest Guardian stayed quiet for several awkward seconds before he mustered up the nerve to ask, “So, should I come back later, or?...”

Pitch sighed through his nose and went through one last round of pettings, the Nightmares poised at either side of him like he had his army back, or a few bodyguards at least. He grinned over his shoulder at the younger man, “Feeling neglected, Jack? If you wanted me to scritch under your chin too, you just have to get in line.”

“Okay, now you’re being creepy on purpose,” but it was sort of funny, so at least half of a smile was on his face. Still, “I’m being serious though. Should I go? You look kind of busy.”

“You can do as you please.” It was the same answer he had for Jack a week ago. Pitch already considered himself lucky that Jack came back at all. “I just had to know… I still can’t control them completely. They need to be fed before they’ll be entirely obedient again.”

“So you’re going to work on that now, then?” Jack didn’t really want to go. He had nowhere to be, not really. He could always go cause more havoc and mayhem, but there wasn’t a deadline on that. But he didn’t really want to stand here while Pitch charmed his ponies either. If they would be done soon, then he could wait it out, but if Pitch was planning on spending his night on this, then Jack would be pretty bored and a little creeped out and that didn’t sound fun at all. He started edging toward the door after setting the candle back on the bedside table, his feet barely leaving marks in the accumulating snow.

“Eventually,” Pitch explained, and this was the _last last_ round of pettings he swore. The Nightmare King turned from his loyal-to-a-point followers and back to his unexpected guest who seemed to have lost some of his enthusiasm. A couple of the horses followed behind, but the rest went back to patrolling empty stone halls to wait for their next meal. “Once they’re feeding, _I’ll_ be feeding. And then I’ll be in top form for our war to rage on for decades.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile at the thought of _decades_ of pranks. It was a dream come true for him, except that it wasn’t really true, yet. The war had only just been declared. They were barely out of the gate. There was still time for it to fall apart. “Okay,” he acknowledged, because it was polite, “but what are we doing right now?”

Pitch looked over Jack’s shoulder into his soon-to-be-former bedroom, where at least six inches of snow had accumulated already. Wasn’t the answer obvious? “Building a snowman?”

Jack grinned.

 

* * *

 

 

The grin was far more bemused a couple of weeks later, when they were lost somewhere in Canada. The snow was still thick on the ground here and only getting thicker, unlike other parts of the northern hemisphere that were still thoroughly thawed after summer and awaiting first snow. They still had not built a snowman.

“Pitch… No, Pitch, you’re supposed to make a _ball._ And that’s not enough snow. And that’s still not a ball. What are you doing?”

  
…

“Have you seriously never done this? Every kid has done this. Pitch, if you don’t pack it right it’ll never stay- _argh!_ That wasn’t even a proper snowball! You can’t just throw handfuls of snow at people, Pi--!”

…

“Okay, for real, Pitch, it’s not a sand castle. You can’t do it like that. It doesn’t work that way. You’re not making a snowman, you’re making a really tiny hill.”

...

"Pitch. This is serious business. This is _my_ business, so stop traumatizing my snow. Seriously, Pitch, stop. It's not okay anymore."

...

"I can't believe that on the relative scale of difficulty as according to Pitch Black, world domination is easier than this."

The Nightmare King no longer remembered at which point he stopped actually trying to build a snowman and started putting all that effort into upsetting Jack over it. What could he say? The younger male was kind of adorable fretting over the _science_ of a perfect snowman like they were building a house of cards, and Pitch was still a little disgruntled about the last prank Jack had pulled three days ago. The score was currently in Frost’s favor after two weeks, and Pitch considered this a mild form of revenge.

And then there was the weird feeling he got when Jack was in close with him, pale hands over _paler_ hands when he was instructed on how to form a proper snowball. His hands had never felt so warm and cold at the same time.

But that moment was long over and Pitch was currently holding a mound of snow that was hardening into ice as he moulded it into a shape that was anything but ball-like. “I think you have too many rules for your snow-crafting. In that you have _any_ rules about your snow-crafting.”

“They’re not _my_ rules,” Jack insisted, affronted at the idea that _Jack Frost_ adhered to _rules_ at all, “They’re just _how you do things._ Snow behaves a certain way and you have to treat it right if you want it to obey.”

Pitch scoffed, tossing the small chunk of now-ice over his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest, “Should I bring it chocolates and roses next time?”

“...I mean, if you _want_ to…”

“Hm,” Pitch pressed his lips together in a grin, scooping up another handful of white powder that he _wasn’t treating right_ and watched it slowly melt between his fingers, “Sand is definitely easier.”

_“Magic_ sand,” Jack specified irritably, “Magic sand that reads _thoughts._ Of course that’s easier! Don’t compare my natural snow to your corrupted sand. That’s not a fair fight.” Although snow vs. Pitch wasn’t looking like a fair fight anymore, either.

But he didn’t get to follow that train of thought because just then he heard a familiar voice in the distance, “Hey, Snowflake! You there?” and it sounded like it had been calling him for a while.

Oops.

The frost spirit twirled around on his toe, feet barely touching the ground anymore, to greet the newcomer, another Not!Guardian that Jack had run into here or there through the centuries, “Matchstick!”

“I’ve been looking for you for _days,”_ the winged man complained, still not quite close enough for a proper conversation, but neither Jack nor Seifer had ever cared about _etiquette._ “You seriously need to get yourself a fucking mailing address so I can just send you postcards when I need a favor.”

“I’d get a PO box in Burgess, but it’s a little hard when the postman can’t hear me,” Jack shrugged, hopping higher into the air to greet Cupid with a friendly hug before they both landed lightly on the frozen ground.

“Do it the slick way; leave the paperwork in the In box and wait for some newbie to accidentally process it.” Then the famed God of Love turned to the dark spot on the horizon, “‘Sup, Thriller?”

_Once._ He’d done that dance once. Twice. ..Maybe three times. …..Whatever, it was Halloween and he fucking owned it, but that did _not_ merit Cupid’s little pet name. Not that Pitch had a star’s chance of stopping the obnoxious cherub. He nodded his head in acknowledgement, “Long time no chaos. Just how many of us _do_ you recruit for your courtship games?”

“Everyone useful,” Seifer replied easily, settling into a seated position in the snow, “Which more or less means everyone but Trix.”

Pitch smirked at the jab on the Guardian that probably hated him most and had to agree, “Well he _is_ just for kids…”

“Oh God, it’s worse than that,” Seifer groaned, leaning back on his hands, “Because even Mrs. Peacock can move more than teeth. You can’t hide an engagement ring inside a hard-boiled egg. Or if you can, Trix doesn’t know how.”

“I still haven’t figured out what he even _does_ nine months out of the year,” Jack griped as he plopped down beside the other two, “He bitched _so long_ about how eggs are _perishable_ that I _know_ he doesn’t even start painting until the next year comes around. What is he so busy with from May to December?”

“Perhaps he’s breeding the perfect chickens,” Pitch supplied, hands still idly fingering the snow around him, “You know when he isn’t sulking about his second-rate holiday.”

“But they _pop out of flowers,”_ Jack whispered in a haunted tone. It was actually kind of cool if really weird, but the obnoxious dramatics appealed to him.

“Speaking of underappreciated holidays,” Cupid began.

“Saturnalia,” Jack finished for him.

And then Cupid ceased to care about whatever he was going to say, _“Saturnalia._ Yes. We should definitely bring that one back.”

Pitch looked mildly perplexed, “Now is that the one with the flowers and prostitutes, or the one with the sheep jumping over bonfires?”

Seifer failed to answer the question, but he sounded very sure of himself, “Dude, those sheep were _awesome.”_

“Winter solstice, Pitch,” Jack snickered, “Role reversals and binge eating for a week straight. Rome really knew how to say, ‘fuck all,’ to good sense and responsibility. Wish I’d been around.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Pitch nodded his understanding, “Yes, you would have liked that one. ...And the sheep for that matter.”

“Kind of definitely curious about the sheep,” Jack affirmed with a nod.

_“Speaking of underappreciated holidays,”_ Seifer tried again, now that he found it in him to care once more, “I’ve got this couple down south who really just needs one good night of forgetting the world for each other to _finally_ go for it, and they’re both super nostalgic for after school snowball fights, but there isn’t enough snow on the ground and they wouldn’t think to do it on their own, anyway. Help me out? And who decided love only matters one day a year, anyway, hm?”

“Most likely the same people who decided to show their reverence for fear by asking for candy from strangers.”

“Oh my God, Pitch,” Jack said in a rush, closing his eyes in a mimicry of pain, “Way to take it to a dark place. A plus.” The Guardian of Fun groaned, then shook his head as if to clear it before continuing, “Yeah, sure, I’m always up for a snowball fight. Just show me when and where, alright?”

Pitch tried not to feel like he was being tossed aside for the next fun thing, or next _spirit_ that had the pleasure of interacting with Jack Frost, but…

It was just nice to have company sometimes. And Pitch hated himself for this growing feeling of attachment he could feel blossoming in his chest. He looked out over the mounds of disturbed snow that signified their hours of failure that he’d actually been enjoying. “Sounds more worthwhile than building a snowman, hm?”

_“No,”_ Jack declared with a surprising amount of vehemence in his tone. No, Pitch was _not_ getting out of this that easy. They were _going_ to build a fucking snowman because at this point, the build-up was too much and the anti-climax of never succeeding might single-handedly destroy his spirit.

Besides, he didn’t want to go anywhere right now, and it didn’t look like Seifer was in a hurry, so, “Building a snowman is just as fundamental to childhood as snowball fights. They serve different purposes. Fights are fun and exciting and exhilarating, but every kid needs to know what it’s like to build with their own hands and see their accomplishment stand for days. You are building a snowman, Pitch. I am going to _make_ you build one.”

Seifer looked mildly impressed, “Wow, that got deep.”

Pitch almost looked offended, but he held a laugh in his voice at the same time, “I did build my _lair,_ Jack. Not to mention the army that resides inside it. Also did you forget that I’m _far older_ than you? It’s a bit late for childhood accomplishments.”

Jack looked downright scandalized, “That’s like saying it’s too late for cookies. It is _never_ too late for cookies. And it’s never too late to learn to build a snowman, or throw snowballs, or make snow angels.”

And then Jack froze.

“Wait, Pitch, you _have_ made snow angels, haven’t you?”

Seifer edged a little away across the snow, “You’re in for it, now.”

As if Pitch was associated with _anything_ that had the term angel in it. But that look in Jack’s eye made him want to follow Seifer’s lead and start inching away. “Jack, _how_ can you be so selfish? There is a poor, oblivious couple out there who may never find true love…”

“They’ll find true love if I have to beat it into them,” Seifer grumbled from the side.

_“Snow angels,_ Pitch!” Jack cried in dismay, “They’re like Childhood 101!”

“And I’m not a child!” Pitch tried to argue, like he had any hope of calming the frost spirit down.  

“Because you somehow _completely missed it,”_ Jack argued, with his hands for added emphasis, “I’ll bet you never built a pillow fort either, or made s’mores over a fire, or dropped mentos in diet coke!”

Pitch tilted his head, “Which one is mentos again?...”

Jack promptly dove face-first into the snow with arms, staff, and feet splayed about as if he might have actually just spontaneously died.

Seifer toppled over backwards, unable to stay upright under the force of his laughter.

“Oh come off it now,” Pitch reached over to nudge the younger male, “You’re being entirely overdramatic."

That did make Jack snort with laughter, but probably not the way Pitch was hoping for, “And _you_ would know, wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Pitch agreed with a smirk, ruffling that white hair to retaliate the jab at himself.

It wasn’t proper retaliation. Usually people didn’t _like_ retaliation so much. Jack turned his head to the side and smiled, still pressed into the soft snow, up at Pitch as if their ridiculously obvious joke was something far more hidden and private between them.

Seifer tilted his head against the frozen ground and considered them speculatively.

“I’m _not_ overreacting,” Jack argued with mock offense, “Everyone should get to feel what building a pillow fort is like. There’s something freeing about locking yourself behind walls you only have to push against to escape, creating a cage that you control, that was never meant to last, that only your friends care to enter. Things like that are _important.”_

“Yes, well,” Pitch seemed to have a problem as of late when Jack was hanging around him- every time they touched, it was, apparently, hard to stop. Just like with his Nightmares, once he started stroking their manes or scratching behind their ears, he couldn’t pull his hands back right away. Fingertips lingered, pointlessly brushing away clinging snowflakes from already messy hair while he offered his only explanation, “I obviously didn’t have a typical childhood. I _am_ the Boogeyman.”

“And I _obviously_ have to make up for it,” Jack decided, not moving an inch away from Pitch’s touch. It was totally unexpected, but ever since that second visit, when Pitch had pulled him close without realizing, Jack discovered that the Nightmare King was not only capable, but wholly willing to fill or overfill Jack’s physical contact quota for any given length of time. It wasn’t just quick hugs and pats on the back like the other guardians, either. And it wasn’t play wrestling or hand-holding the way it was with kids like Jamie.

There was an intimacy to it, an honest affection and selfless charm. It didn’t feel temporary and it didn’t feel guarded and it didn’t feel like Jack better watch where his hands were going. It was easy and Jack had always wanted it and who knew _Pitch_ would be able to give it? But Pitch gave it in spades. He was very touchy and cuddly and did it without hesitation and in moments like these, Jack Frost could not understand why the other guardians had such a problem with him.

“Because _I_ am the Guardian of Fun.”

Pitch’s ‘problem’ was not made any easier with the way Jack did not shy away from his touch. He knew the winter sprite longed for contact as much as he did, though he wouldn’t have guessed Jack would _accept_ it from him. But if he _was_ , why should he stop? That little smile on his pale lips gave Pitch the oddest feeling of peace, which was entirely too rare for the King of Nightmares.

He tucked a bit of that white hair behind Jack’s ear, “You’re better off with the actual children, Jackie Boy. You know I’m perfectly capable of having fun.”

“Now you’re patronizing me,” Jack complained, finally pushing himself back up and out of the snow. “Just because the Guardians protect children doesn’t mean that’s _all_ I do. And _you_ have too narrow a definition of _fun.”_

“You’re officially my favorite Guardian,” Came a forgotten voice from the side. Cupid was lounging on the snow, getting comfortable in his loose dhoti pants and bare skin as if the cold couldn’t reach him for all the love that warmed his heart, “I mean, you have been for a while, but now I’m making it official.”

Pitch was ashamed to note that he _had_ momentarily forgotten Seifer was there, but his hands left Jack even before the blond had spoken up again. He… needed a tighter grip on his impulses, no matter how surprisingly soft those white tufts were. “It isn’t like he has a lot of competition,” Pitch directed at Seifer, and then he was back to Jack, “And my definition of fun encompasses exactly what I need it to.”

Jack rolled his eyes, “And that’s what makes it _narrow._ But I have competition,” He corrected lightly, as if the point only needed to be voiced, not argued, to be true, “Sandy is pretty cool, I think. I really like when he makes the dinosaurs.”

“His work _is_ beautiful,” Seifer agreed mildly, flapping his wings twice to stretch them, “but so is yours. And unfortunately for him, you’re more fun to talk to, so…”

Pitch still held on to the notion that what he and Jack created together was _most_ beautiful, but that was an opinion he was keeping to himself.

Especially when out of nowhere, a fourth voice spoke up from above.

“Hmm. Cupid, Jack Frost, and the Boogeyman…” came a smooth, low voice from a smooth Blue Fairy. It was purely coincidental that Lelouch happened to be flying through Canada granting some mortal’s wish when he spotted the small gathering of supernatural beings that _he_ hadn’t been invited into. The dark-haired, fair skinned male came in for a landing, a blue glow to his snowy shadow as he folded barely visible wings against his back. “Now if you were all walking into a bar, it would be the set up for a great joke.”

“Greetings, Merryweather,” Seifer immediately replied with an unaffected smile.

Jack smiled at the nickname that he found undeniably hilarious, but didn’t look at Seifer just in case the Blue Fairy took offense. “I dunno, I think a wish granter would be way funnier in a drunken bar joke than an ice machine,” no saving him from himself, though.

“All depends on the punchline, I suppose,” Lelouch shrugged, lowering himself onto his knees next to the blond Love God in the snow like he belonged here the whole time. The fairy was long since used to Seifer’s nicknames. It was a rare sight to see so many powerful spirits together at one time, but also, “Three of the most chaotic deities I can think of, and all you’ve managed to disturb is a little snow? Am I missing something, or are we still at the plotting phase?”

Jack smiled indulgently, "It's cute that you think I bother to plan."

"Does matchmaking count?" Seifer asked with interest.

“I’ll allow it,” Lelouch conceded, then turned his attention to the dark member of their group, “But I know for a _fact_ that you have the mind of a tactician.”

“Only rivaled by you. Maybe,” Pitch grinned at the way the fairy scoffed, “But I’ve been told I haven’t been having _fun_ properly, so here I am in the snow with the Anti-Plottist.”

"I accept my title with pride," Jack rushed to say, before throwing himself dramatically at Pitch and clutching desperately, "He _hasn't!_ Lulu, he's never even made a _snow angel!"_

Violet eyes blinked prettily but blankly as he considered this predicament, then eventually, “....I may need to stick around to see this.” But then he paused and looked around at the haphazard craters and hills of white they were sitting in, “Or did I miss it?”

Pitch still wasn’t used to the way Jack would sometimes barrel into him, surprising him with touch when he wanted to do nothing more than drive a point home. He accepted the grip and shook his head down at the icy imp with a surprisingly soft smile. Was it his perpetual age as a juvenile that was making him this dramatic or was Pitch just a terrible influence on him? “No, we haven’t gotten quite that far yet. And no, you won’t be sticking around for it. Either of you.”

Seifer shrugged. If what he was seeing was what he was seeing, then either he wouldn’t need to be around for it, or he’d be around but neither of them would know. It was how Cupid rolled.

Jack pulled his legs under him to sit up, which left him way closer to Pitch than he had been five minutes ago, even as he took his hands back from the shadowman’s body. “The carnage you see is the result of failed snowmen. Do you wanna give it a try? I could use a success to restore my faith in snow days.”

Pitch used the proximity to lightly elbow Jack in the ribs, “How easily your faith is shaken.”

“Pitch, I don’t think you understand what a monumental failure this has been.”

Seifer was laughing again. They were fucking _flirting_ right in front of him. At this point, Seifer was almost one hundred percent sure Pitch had been failing on purpose just to give Jack an excuse to stick around longer, and how _adorable_ was that? Look at them, touching each other for no other reason than to touch, and if Cupid was reading this situation right, they were both still oblivious.

To be fair, even Seifer was a little unsure how to go about courting the Nightmare King.

“Give him a break, Snowflake. I don’t think Thriller has gotten his hands properly dirty for a millenia.”

“If we’re defining ‘dirty’ as ‘traipsing around in the snow’, then yes, that statement is accurate. Otherwise, I believe most would consider my hands downright filthy…” And Pitch wasn’t ashamed of that in the slightest.

Lelouch was already on his way to a perfectly packed snowball, rounding off the edges for no other reason than to be a perfectionist, “Isn’t this sort of… common sense though? Maybe it’s biological that the Boogeyman can’t participate in childhood activities.”

“A possibility,” Pitch agreed, partially sadistically as if it would only encourage Jack to try harder. Could he count this as one of his pranks?

“Making a snowball is _not_ biological,” Jack argued vehemently. His power over snowballs and fun times knew no bounds, damn it. “That’s like saying _math_ is genetic. Everyone can do it; you just have to practice. And you are _going_ to practice, Boogeyman.”

Seifer was nodding, seemingly to Jack, but secretly to himself. Thriller was definitely stalling for time.

Pitch just smiled indulgently, letting Jack believe he would mentor him through this important process of snow-crafting. Like it didn’t matter he had an army to rebuild and belief in fear to restore. “Whatever you say, Frost.”

"Damn right," the youngest Guardian affirmed.

Had he the physical strength, Lelouch was _sure_ Jack would have dragged Pitch by his ear back out into the snow and enforce his Snow-Day Bootcamp regiment right then and there. It wasn’t quite that extreme, but Jack did put up enough of a fuss to get Pitch to pick up another handful of snow, both bickering and bantering the whole time.

It made Lelouch smile, he would have never pictured the Nightmare King putting up with something so ridiculous, but that left the Blue Fairy at Cupid’s side. Normally, Lelouch enjoyed the occasions when he ran into Seifer- he had no qualms with him no matter how many silly pet names he had to suffer through.

The Granter of Wishes unfortunately had to be the bearer of bad news this time around. He turned to Seifer with a little sigh, “It’s been awhile since I’ve last seen you. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

"Oh yeah?" Seifer asked, distracted by the potentially potential couple right in front of him, "What about, Merryweather?"

“This,” Lelouch said, reaching inside of his ruffle trimmed vest and pulling out a silver chain with a distinct pendant hanging at the end of it, “You know I don’t like to get involved beyond the wish, but I thought I should return this to you.”

Seifer almost didn't take his eyes away from Jack and Pitch, so excited as he was by the prospect of matchmaking a Guardian and a Guardian Nemesis, but Lelouch didn't play messenger for just anything.

But when he saw what was in the Blue Fairy’s hand, he was speechless, anyway. He never expected to see it again, and that was supposed to be a _good_ thing. If Lelouch had it, then that meant something could be very, _very_ wrong, _“Squall…”_

Even knowing the bits and pieces of the whole story, largely from Squall’s perspective, Lelouch could tell there was a lot of _weight_ to the way Seifer spoke that name. He let the necklace slip out of his grip and into the winged man’s hand, “You should see him, Seifer. Before it’s too late.”

The words, ‘too late,’ seemed to echo back and forth in his brain until they felt less like an oncoming future and more like cold reality. It was too late. It was _already_ too late because _somehow_ Lelouch had possession of Griever. Snapping his head up, Seifer completely forgot the other two spirits and demanded of the Blue Fairy, “The wish! What was the wish? What did he want so bad?!”

“To not feel pain anymore,” it was a sad story to tell, but Lelouch didn’t want to think what would have happened if he _hadn’t_ gotten involved, “To not feel _anything_ anymore, really.”

Seifer stared in shocked silence. To the God of Love, the man who made his every day about bringing people together to share all of the ups and downs of life, to not feel _anything_ was the worst punishment of all. _“Why?..._ Why would he want that?” Seifer whispered, struggling to comprehend that kind of self-imposed solitary confinement, until he remembered that the person in front of him had _granted_ that wish. He grabbed Lelouch by the front of his shirt and demanded harshly, “What did you do? What did you _help_ him do?!”

Lelouch frowned. He accepted the accusatory tone, but he did not appreciate the manhandling unless it was from a certain lumberjack he was smitten with. He placed a hand over Seifer’s and tried to get the man to let go of his ruffles, “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Honestly, the mother, the father, the sister, then _you_ ? If I wasn’t numb by then, I’d certainly _want_ to be.”

Seifer looked like he’d been slapped, grip weakening in his further shock over the situation. _No…_ No, Squall was supposed to _forget him._ He was supposed to _move on._ Live his life. Find someone else. Get married and grow old with someone who _would_ grow old. Shaking his head slowly from side to side, Seifer reminded him, “You still haven’t told me what you did.”

“I want to say it was four, maybe five months ago,” the fairy began, remaining patient through Seifer’s behavior, “Death was out of the question, you know I don’t do that, so we ended up negotiating for a while. He’s… quite fond of the ocean. Tell me, are you familiar with the undine?”

Cupid jerked back from the Blue Fairy, expression horrified until he could get some control over himself and ask, “A soulless sea witch? That’s what you made him?”

“It’s what he wished for,” Lelouch tried not to make his shrug seem like he didn’t _care_ but that he was simply doing his job, “He wanted to be in tune with the one thing in his life that has never and _would_ never leave him.” A wry smirk, “As well as a pet shark for a companion when he’s out on the water. The thing is a _monster._ ”

Seifer returned that wry look with a dry one, “You took his soul and gave him a shark.”

“Per his request. I don’t think you realize how broken he was, Seifer. Which strikes me as odd. You of _all_ people should understand how powerful love is.”

The blond man shook his head in denial, “He _wasn’t_ in love, yet. He couldn’t have been! I was very careful to leave before…” But none of that mattered now, did it? There was no point to defending himself against Lelouch, who wouldn’t care either way. What mattered now was Squall. “Undine. Aren’t they mortal until they marry?”

“Yes,” and Lelouch considered himself a little bit genius for that decision. Squall had agreed to sea witch, but he hadn’t specified what _kind_ , “Which is also why I wanted to tell you. He isn’t just sitting idly by with his new abilities and I don’t know how long it will be until the sailors and fisherman start arranging a literal _witch hunt._ ”

Seifer was shaking his head again, but this time in disbelief, “So he’s _trying_ to get himself killed, even as a supernatural being. Fuck, Squall, you weren’t supposed to _care_ that much…” But if Lelouch was telling the truth, that also meant there was an opportunity here, “He’ll gain an immortal soul if he marries, won’t he?”

“Yes, but there are rules for that too. If the one he marries strays or leaves, it will mean certain death. And that’s only if any interested parties don’t _end up_ dead trying to court him.”

With a shrug, Seifer dismissed those concerns, “Won’t be a problem.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lelouch asked incredulously. He wasn’t necessarily concerned about Seifer dying, Seifer was immortal after all, but eternally binding himself to someone that… maybe could never be the person they were before. “He’s…. I don’t know if he’s the same person you lo-” but then Lelouch stopped himself short, remembering what the blond said, “...knew.”

“He was _always_ a prissy little bitch,” Seifer reminded, shuffling his feet restlessly. He didn’t want to be here, anymore. He wanted to go find Squall and see if this was all real. Because, “He and I could have been soul mates, if only it wouldn’t have been temporary. If any part of him is still that man, then I could love him with everything I am.”

Lelouch respected the determination in the God of Love, despite thinking how foolish it was for him to have given up on love in the first place. He had hope that something good would come out of this bad situation. “Well it was only his soul he sacrificed, not his heart. Just ...be careful. He’s extremely hostile for someone determined not to feel _anything._ ”

Against all odds, that made Seifer laugh, “Yeah, sounds like he hasn’t changed much,” before he kicked into the air. “If it’s all the same to you guys, I’m gonna get started now. It’ll take me long enough as it is. Snowflake, I’ll leave the info you need with Wonderball. Good luck getting back on your feet, Thriller!”

“I always get back on my feet,” Pitch defended with a little frown, no matter how much Jack was kind of _burying_ him in more and more snow. Though, at some point they had stopped their snow-filled endeavors to listen in on the conversation. He knew Seifer well enough to be interested in the bits of the story he was able to hear.

“Good luck, yourself!” Jack called after him. They might have paused while Lelouch delivered the news, but now that Cupid was on his way, Jack deemed it appropriate to heave another armful of snow over Pitch’s legs.

Lelouch offered Seifer a sassy little wave in a “no-need-to-thank-me” sort of way.

“See ya ‘round, Merryweather!” The God of Love waved before disappearing up into the clouds.

Lelouch sighed watching him go, muttering more to himself than the pair still playing next to him, “I hope he doesn’t get bitten…”

“By the shark or the witch?” Pitch managed to ask, but he couldn’t wait around for the answer with Jack shoving more _cold_ in his lap. Mildly exasperated, he tried to dust it back off in Jack’s direction, “What is this? What are you trying to teach me? In order to build the snowman, I must first _be_ the snowman?”

“I can’t build you a snowman, so I’m gonna _make_ you a snowman!” Jack said with all the enthusiasm of a person who knew they were talking bullshit and loved every second of it, just before shoving the entirety of one of Pitch’s pathetic hills of snow into his lap. “Whatever, Pitch. I’m having fun. If you have a problem, you can speak to my lawyer.”

Pitch responded by picking up another loose handful of snow and hurling it at the snow spirit, “Who in their sane mind would represent _you_ knowing what a liability you are, and how could you possibly afford them?”

“He could always wish really hard,” Lelouch offered, getting up on his knees and shoveling a few armfuls of snow at Pitch’s side, “Like he is right now.”

Pitch stared at the Blue Fairy like he’d been _betrayed_ but his outrage was inevitably turned onto Frost who was unknowingly compelling Lelouch’s actions, “ _Stop that!”_

Jack laughed, offering his hand to Lelouch for a high five, “Lulu, you’re the best!” Inevitably though, both hands returned to the task of smoothing thick layers of snow over Pitch’s skin, “Or I could just be _really cute_ and get them to represent me for free.”

Pitch glared down at the young spirit, though he wasn’t exactly fighting very hard to break free. Yet. “You aren’t that cute,” he bit out.

Lelouch honestly had nothing better to do than grant Jack’s little wish, so while the young spirit worked on Pitch’s front, the fairy crawled his way behind the Boogeyman to get started. “He is that cute. The question would be whether or not the judge can _see_ him.”

Jack couldn’t keep his smile from becoming just tense enough to count when Pitch said that. It wasn’t that Jack _needed_ to be cute to everyone all the time, Manny knew Bunny would never be that enamored with him, but Pitch wasn’t everyone and Jack would have liked a compliment from him.

And for some reason, Lelouch’s wasn’t good enough to combat it completely.

Lelouch probably knew it too, the wish-reading bastard.

“It’s better if he can’t,” the frost spirit reasoned, “I have a terrible poker face.”

It was true, Lelouch was now getting mixed signals as to what Jack wanted more- A Boogeyman buried in the snow or a Boogeyman that begrudgingly admitted that Jack was indeed attractive. Which… said something.

No wonder Seifer had been distracted at first with these two.

Smirking, he placed one hand on Pitch’s shoulder and leaned his head in over the opposite like he had a grand secret to tell. “Come on, Pitch. There is no way the _King of Nightmares_ would allow himself to be covered in snow like this. You just can’t say no to that face,” he indicated Jack’s with a point of his finger.

Pitch raised a hairless eyebrow, briefly looking next to him at Lelouch, but eyes always pulled back towards Jack. Jack and that pretty face of his. Jack with that smile that was literally keeping him rooted to the spot. The fairy’s words should have inspired him to _snap out of it_ , he was the _Boogeyman_ for fuck’s sake, but… Well what did he have to prove really? Neither of the two spirits were scared of him. He wasn’t looking for fear right now, he was simply enjoying his time. And something about Jack’s presence was quite enjoyable to him.

A mortal wouldn’t have stood a cold chance in Hell against that.

“Alright, I take it back, but I am perfectly capable of saying _no,_ and have done so numerous times.”

The look on Lelouch’s face as he eyed Jack knowingly said it all, _‘But you aren’t now.’_

Oh fuck, Jack immediately thought, that was Lelouch’s, ‘I know something you don’t,’ face.

A thought that took nothing away from the warm giddy feeling Pitch’s acquiescence brought about in him. Fuck, Lulu was good. He didn’t even need magic snowballs.

Jack decided to run with it. He didn’t understand, but he didn’t think he needed to. Pitch was in an agreeable mood, half-covered in snow, and looking, if Jack was honest, _utterly adorable._ If the Boogeyman pouted, widened his eyes, and asked for _anything,_ the Guardian of Fun would have figured out how to make his powers do it on the spot, if only to keep Pitch right there in the snow.

Laughing, Jack teased _the Nightmare King,_ “Pitch, I literally destroyed your whole bedroom and all you cared about was that I forgot the snowman. You should stop pretending you ever tell me _no._ ”

….

That… Jack wasn’t supposed to have a point about that. Pitch opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his tongue until he could rethink them, looking off to the side. _Not_ sheepish because the Boogeyman didn’t _do_ sheepish. “... _Telling_ you no, and you _listening_ are two different things altogether,” he grumbled.

“Seriously, stop lying,” Jack shook his head fondly, “You make token complaints and spend the rest of the time helping me be _worse.”_ But if the Boogeyman didn’t do sheepish, Jack Frost certainly did and his fingers were suddenly doing more fiddling than packing to the snow piling ever higher against Pitch’s chest, “But that’s okay because it’s what makes you so much more fun than the rest of the Guardians. They’re _always_ telling me no. I mean, Sandy doesn’t try to stop me, and I guess North’s not so bad; I think he’s resigned to me being on the naughty list, but they would never…”

Jack wasn’t even sure how to express in words the way Pitch gave him ideas for bigger and better stunts under the guise of doing no such thing at all, but he had to at least try.

_“...Encourage_ me.”

Somehow they’d waded into slightly serious conversation, and instead of Pitch indulging the fair-haired boy like he was watching a dog trying to perform tricks on its hind legs, the Boogeyman was hanging off every carefully selected word. It was a source of pride to be _better_ than the Guardians at _anything_ he could grasp at, and that satisfied Pitch. But to know that he could give Jack something no one else was willing or able to made him _happy._

And how ridiculous was _that?_

Probably as ridiculous as the grin that was growing on his face, “Seems cold and dark work pretty well together, hm?”

…

Lelouch officially felt like he was intruding on something private, watching the two fools make googly eyes at each other. Damn it, where was that cherub when you _needed_ him?

The situation was handled fairly effectively by Jack’s inability to hold onto a mood, and he snorted before giggling helplessly, “Oh my God, Pitch, why do you have to quote _yourself?_ That’s so tacky.”

Pitch rolled his eyes, the moment shattered, and wished he didn’t feel so disgruntled about it. He needed to remember he was dealing with an eternal teenager. “With your attention span even less than that of a _goldfish_ , I think some words bear repeating.”

….Lelouch tilted his head. That was a harder wish to grant because it was so abstract. Honestly, all the flirting and fickle wants were going to drive him crazy if he stuck around the pair for much longer. This was why he tended to leave matters of love to Seifer. Except, apparently, when it came to Seifer himself.

The Blue Fairy cleared his throat to hopefully change the subject, and leaned in so his chin was hooked over Pitch’s shoulder, just to remind him and Jack of their company, “How far under do you want him, Jack? You know he can escape anytime.”

Jack let the slight against him lie and tilted his head at Lulu’s question, instead. How far under _did_ he want Pitch to go? It wasn’t like he could really bury him when they started with the Boogeyman above ground and all, so… Jack picked up his staff and waved it idly, drawing snow from all around them with an excited wind, settling in a fluffy pile on all sides of the Nightmare King, “That should do it.”

Both the Nightmare King and the Blue Fairy winced as the snow came down in a sudden rush, anticipating the chill. But only one of them was actually affected. Lelouch cracked an eye open to realize _he_ was fine, only some of the snow in his hair and under his chin. Where he was resting on Pitch. ….Or what was now the white hill with Pitch’s head and shoulders sticking out. Lelouch leaned back so he could cover up his laugh with a hand. It was… kind of precious, really.

Pitch felt… cold, to say the least. Only slightly humiliated. He would be looking forward to tea and a _dry_ robe later on. Frost and his damn snow… Pitch shook his head, let Lelouch have his laugh, and eyed Jack pointedly, “Satisfied? You’ve had your fun?”

Obviously trying to keep his smile smaller than the wide grin it wanted to be, Jack feigned thinking hard about this question. Honestly, he just needed a few more moments to truly appreciate the view before he could handle trying to talk about it.

If only the other Guardians could see the Nightmare King like this.

“I dunno, can you move your arms? Maybe it needs to be packed a little tighter.”

“Enough to have one finger up for you, Frost.”

At that point, Jack just about collapsed into the snow, unable to keep his mischievous snickering under control anymore. It was too much. It was too funny. Jack was _loving_ it.

He was also looking forward to what Pitch might do to him in retaliation.

“Alright, alright,” he gasped, pulling himself upright just enough to nudge Pitch’s chin up and out of the way so that he could comfortably place the end of his staff at the top of the snow pile on Pitch’s chest and sweep it down in a straight line. The snow parted, frozen and fluffy and dry, as if it had never been packed in at all, “Is that better, _Thriller?”_

“Perfect, _Snowflake_ ,” the Boogeyman taunted back, shrugging some of the snow off his shoulders to relish in his “freedom”. Though he didn’t do much more than that, and still wearing his snowy mantle, he held out what he was holding in his hands- A perfectly packed and shaped snowball at least the size of a grapefruit that he offered to his would-be teacher, “Hm, look what I managed to make…”

Jack would like to have made a joke then, to continue the stream of banter and play, but he couldn’t. He was shocked into temporary silence and his eyes were glued to the proof that Pitch was not, in fact, utterly hopeless at winter games. It really was perfect, and Jack wasn’t sure how he felt about that-was Pitch _actually_ just fucking with him this whole time?-as he reached out to take the snowball from the Nightmare King’s hands.

He cradled it close, careful to _keep_ it perfect, before his eyes snapped up and he accused, “You liar! You said you could only move one finger!”

Pitch’s grin was _all teeth_ , dark and predatory, when he purred out, “Maybe one finger was all I needed…”

As he trailed off mysteriously, it was then that the snowball in Jack’s hands _moved._ Followed by one spiny appendage breaking through a thin snowy coating. Seven more legs burst through after that leaving nothing of that perfect snowball left. The deadly looking shadow spider with glowing red eyes hissed menacingly at the frost spirit and darted forward to skitter its’ way up Jack’s arm.

Jack only screamed a little bit.

He wasn’t particularly afraid of spiders or anything; in the time that he was alive, in the place that he was alive, they were too unavoidable to not build up a resistance. Pests like that became something you just lived with.

And he wasn’t afraid of shadows, either. He hadn’t really ever been, but exposure to Pitch certainly eroded any lingering nervousness when it came to the dark.

It was the shock of having something he’d been cradling carefully turn into a lively animal that promptly _hissed_ at him that did it. Jack was flailing wildly for several seconds and only narrowly resisted smacking it off his arm, consciously recognizing it as something that wouldn’t hurt him even if his primitive brain wanted to kill it with fire as soon as Jack could find fire.

No, he didn’t smack the spider. He turned and smacked Pitch.

“You’re such a jerk! Oh my God!” But the Guardian was smiling, despite.

Lelouch on the other hand _had_ jumped seeing that snowball morph into the most terrifying spider he’d ever seen and was even huddling further behind Pitch as if the shadowman was going to save him somehow.

When the imminent danger dissipated, he kind of wanted to smack the Nightmare King too. “You’re _both_ children, fuck…”

Pitch threw his head back and laughed, completely unaffected by Jack’s violence. The boy weighed next to nothing anyway, there was _literally_ nothing behind his punches. Getting two for one was an added bonus that only made that laughter more maniacal.

“All in good fun, right?” the Boogeyman smirked, holding his hand out for his little spider that crawled off of Jack and onto his palm, disappearing into the shadows of his robe.

Jack laughed, both at himself and Pitch’s melodrama and Lelouch’s instinctive cowardice, but all the same, “You’re not as good at fun as you think you are.”

“ _You_ seem to be enjoying yourself,” Pitch countered, daring Jack to tell him otherwise.

“I am,” Jack nodded enthusiastically, “but you’re still creepy.”

“ _Really_ creepy,” Lelouch piped in.

Pitch was thriving on the compliments, much to the dismay of his current company who still were at either side of him like he had his own little devoted posse. “Then all is as it should be. Just because my brand of fun isn’t to everyone’s tastes doesn’t mean it isn’t fun at all.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Jack corrected mildly, but he didn’t feel like arguing the nuances of fun with Pitch. It didn’t take long for Jack Frost to realize nobody else would ever understand fun the way he did, the way he would never understand the nuances of fear like Pitch. He turned to Lulu instead, “So, I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s Suzaku?”

“He’s well.” There was a topic that instantly calmed the Blue Fairy, enough to forget about Pitch being _Pitch_ , “He’s actually not terribly far away from here. I was on my way back when I happened to see the three of you. If you need a snowball fight to restore your faith in the joy of winter, you should visit sometime. He’ll throw _actual_ snowballs at you. The size of cannonballs.”

Pitch knew where Lelouch was directing that comment and smirked even wider, “A snowball filled with snow is so _expected_ …”

Jack nudged Pitch in the shoulder but otherwise ignored him, asking for the sake of comedic value alone, “Little cannon balls or the big ones?”

“ _Huge,_ ” the Blue Fairy confirmed.

“That sounds like an awesome idea,” Jack smiled, “If anyone could take me in a snowball fight, it would probably be Paul Bunyan.”

“I’m sure he’d adore the challenge,” Lelouch rose into a standing position, almost like he was eager to show off the strength of his peace-loving partner and idly started brushing the snow off of… Pitch. The shade gave him a look before he started brushing the snow off himself as well.

Jack pointedly did not help. He considered being covered in snow a fashion statement, not a nuisance. He did stand, though, and stretched with his staff, “Well, I have no other plans for the rest of the day. Beyond hanging with Pitch, that is.” The frost spirit met the Boogeyman’s eyes to ask, “Did you wanna do anything else, or is a potentially lethal snowball fight alright with you?”

It was Pitch’s turn to rise, looming a good foot taller than the other two spirits, finally looking more like himself now that there was more black on him than white. Witnessing another snowball fight wasn’t the most appealing idea in the world, what with him apparently failing Jack hard enough for him to question _winter_ , but… If Jack was around, at the very least he’d be entertained, instead of returning to his lair where he was still in the process of renovating his bedroom. “I’m usually in favor of anything potentially lethal,” the Boogeyman decided, then looked to Lelouch, “Lead the way.”

“Alright,” the fairy started, stretching his translucent blue wings that began to flutter at either side of him, “But _no spiders._ ”

 


	2. We Got A Real Frost Going Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of advice is traded, and we meet Mother Nature! 
> 
> It's not who you think it is. ;)

The Guardians didn’t gather together  _ that  _ often, because things didn’t go wrong  _ that  _ often. It was more like accidentally hanging out at the same time than anything. North didn’t use the Guardian equivalent of the Bat Signal every other week, after all. It was simply that they were all welcome at each others’ home at any time and sometimes they all visited simultaneously. Bunny was a lot less irritable about it when they were nowhere near Easter.

Seriously, what did he do in October?

They were currently at Tooth’s palace, the Tooth Fairy and Jack perched on a pair of conveniently nearby spires while Sandy sat comfortably on his sand and Bunny and North settled on a balcony not far away. They had to talk loud to hear each other but it wasn’t yelling and it  _ was  _ very comfortable. Jack liked solid ground enough, but there was something about perching that made his feet happy. He figured Tooth probably felt the same.

Though she was chattering on next to him over her less-than-happy feelings on a different subject, “--and can you believe they’re buying Halloween candy already? It’s bad enough that as soon as it’s over, the  _ Christmas  _ candy will be out, but have you seen what candy corn does to  _ teeth _ ?” Tooth made a face and shuddered. 

“Ha!” North bellowed from the balcony, “Candy corn has  _ nothing  _ on candy cane.”

Jack couldn’t help the snort of laughter that turned into helpless giggling at the mention of Halloween candy. Pitch had flipped his shit the moment the calendar turned over into the new month. Apparently the Boogeyman had a favorite time of year and it was absolutely Halloween. 

Sandy was giving him a very curious look, which was a nice change of pace from Bunny’s suspicion, and it prompted him to shake his head in denial, still laughing through his words, “No, it’s nothing. It’s just… You reminded me of something Pitch said last week. Who knew the Nightmare King had such a sweet tooth? Apparently he  _ loves  _ candy corn, like seriously  _ loves  _ it. I swear, he sounded just like Gollum, it was amazing.”

And everything went downhill from there.

It began with the most silent gasp of shock Jack had ever not heard out of Sandy, and then Bunny and North and Tooth were all speaking at once. Which was actually kind of a relief because judging by their faces, Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to be able to understand them, anyway. Too bad that didn’t last long. 

“Seriously, Jack? Pitch? Like  _ Pitch Black _ ? He’s back already?” Tooth tried to ask the newest Guardian calmly, unlike the pair on the balcony. 

“Have you lost your  _ mind _ , mate?! He nearly destroys  _ all of us _ and you’re yammering on with him about  _ candy?!”  _

 

“Is not good for you, Jack! Pitch is very dark, very dangerous! I am not so sure you should trust him.”

No, really, Jack wished they would all go back to talking over each other again. This had been much more tolerable as an indecipherable cacophony.

Because even after Jack tried to explain that the balance of the world was off, that he was trying to help Pitch be believed in without having to take over the whole world to do it, that he was following his center and when had that ever led a Guardian wrong, they latched on to the strictly true facts about Pitch’s history which was, in as few words as possible, that he tried to kill them all. 

Alright, and Jack could have handled that with some grace if only Bunny hadn’t felt the need to throw so many personal insults into his arguments, insults to him and Pitch, both, “And what about those  _ disgusting  _ shadows, huh?”, “I thought you  _ cared  _ about the children, Jack?”, “Just how many more holidays need to be ruined for you to see how much of a bleedin’ monster he is?”

It just made Jack roll his eyes, because  _ honestly,  _ “Alright, so he ruined Easter. But you know what? So did I. And kids  _ love  _ me. It’s not all about  _ you,  _ Cottontail. And the world was never just good and evil. Pitch tried to destroy us because we, with all our fun, hope, dreams and wonder,  _ we  _ destroy  _ him.  _ Or do you just like to pretend he doesn’t exist when the world isn’t at stake? You know, like you did with  _ me?”  _

That little speech didn’t actually help anything. Suddenly their remarks were split half and half between baselessly trying to comfort Jack and cursing Pitch’s name for putting ideas in his head. And the day had started  _ so well…  _

“But Jack, think of children! Think of  _ Jamie!  _ He stood up to Pitch to protect you, and you do this?”

The most upsetting thing about that was how long it had been since Jack last visited Jamie. He was a good kid with a big heart, and had a greater understanding of the importance of hope than Jack thought anyone gave him credit for. Jack was almost one hundred percent sure that, with the whole situation explained to him, Jamie would feel what Jack had felt about the Boogeyman being locked away, by himself, to rot in loneliness, tortured nightly, for as close to eternity as the Guardians could make it. 

The fact was, though, that Jack hadn’t bothered to explain it to him yet. Much the way he hadn’t explained his friendship with Pitch to the Guardians before now. So he couldn’t say, for sure, what Jamie would think, but the implication that Jamie would have nothing but hate in his heart for the Nightmare King, that  _ no child  _ could ever find it in their heart to forgive him, pissed Jack off. That somehow, Jack reaching out to make something right that had gone terribly wrong was a  _ betrayal  _ of his friendship, that if Jack was a  _ good Guardian  _ he would turn a blind eye to another’s suffering under the pretense that it was better for everyone that way…

That was such a fucking naive point of view.

And Jack was supposed to be the least mature, here?

So he left. He gave his goodbyes and left, as polite as a person storming out could possibly manage to be. With a mental note to go visit Jamie and explain everything soon, before the other Guardians could think to use Jamie against him by explaining everything wrong in the hopes that Jamie’s disapproval would change his mind. 

He didn’t  _ think  _ they were that devious, but Jack wasn’t going to risk that one.

The wind carried him high and far, obeying his wish to be taken somewhere remote, calm, and beautiful. It took him to China, to a quiet, abandoned temple where late-blooming vines crawled wildly up trees and along the edge of the roof. It wasn’t as cold as Jack liked, but it was cooler than Tooth’s palace, and Jack just needed a pretty place to get his head back together before he went… probably to see Pitch, actually. 

Flowers weren’t really Jack’s thing, but the whole atmosphere was silent and solemn and felt a lot like a cabin covered in snow, except it was green and yellow, instead. He liked it. For autumn, he liked it. 

The times of year when the hemispheres were trading seasons and snow was banished mostly to the upper latitudes were a little hard for Jack Frost. 

“Ahh! Nooo…” a voice whined in the distance, and the Guardian suddenly jumped up onto the roof to get a better look at whoever it might be, “I was hoping there’d be peaches…” 

Nevermind. Jack didn’t need to see him. He already knew who it was.

“Goku!” the frost spirit cried, jumping down in front of the temple and going out to meet them-since Sanzo was never far behind. He had been hoping for quiet to think things over, but solitude wasn’t really his first choice anyway, and Goku was good company when he wanted to vent.

“Jack!” the child of Earth cried in almost exactly the same tone. He rushed forward to hug him, then threw his arms wide, “What are you doing here?! Isn’t it too hot? I haven’t seen you in forever! I mean, a couple months. But  _ forever!”  _

Okay yeah, fuck quiet. “It’s a little warm, but it’s not too bad. What are  _ you  _ doing here? Other than looking for peaches.”

Sanzo, at the base of the tree puffing away on a cigarette as calmly as he could with Goku bouncing around him in his quest for peaches, just gave Jack a  _ look.  _ Because seriously. “What makes you think the brat has any motivation beyond  _ food _ ?”

Jack returned the look, because  _ really,  _ “The marks on your shoulders, maybe?”

Sanzo scoffed, tapping his cigarette over his bent knee, “Peaches come first.” 

“Out of curiosity,” Jack began, turning away from the ancient priest to face Goku once more, “have you ever tried combining the two?”

“Yes,” Goku answered without hesitation.

Sanzo narrowed his eyes irritably for all of two seconds before he was back to not caring. “Not that it’s any of your business, Frost.” 

“He didn’t have to answer,” Jack pointed out, but he didn’t care that much, either. He twirled his staff through his fingers to show exactly how little. “So, but you guys aren’t on your way to anything, right? ‘Cause I could use a neutral party to talk to and you guys are pretty fucking neutral.”

“We were headed here, so. Yeah, absolutely, talk away!” Goku replied, eyes focused on Jack’s fingers and, accepting the challenge, summoned his own staff to twirl in exactly the same way. 

Sanzo didn’t say anything. He knew the winter spirit was here more for Goku anyway, so sure, they could talk. No guarantee he’d listen, especially knowing how… animated the two could get. 

Weird that Jack needed to talk at all though, knowing he much preferred action to words. 

“Well, see, it’s about the Guardians. ...kind of,” Jack began, then continued, for at least a couple hours. He told the story as much from beginning to end as he could manage, including big important happenings, like Kamui’s visit, and small factors, like the way the last time Jack had fallen but neither of them had meant him to, Pitch had actually caught him. There were a lot more little things than big things in the story, and Jack got distracted on tangents all over the place, but that was really  _ the point.  _ Jack had spent weeks with Pitch by now and was coming away with more cuddles than injuries. If Pitch was really out to hurt him, he had plenty of opportunity and chose to  _ pet him  _ instead.

“So I know they’ve been around  _ way  _ longer than me,” Jack tried desperately to wrap himself up, “like you guys too, but I don’t think they  _ know  _ him. Like they’ve never even  _ tried  _ to know him. Or it only took one slight for them to burn the bridge forever. It just seems  _ totally unreasonable  _ that they won’t even listen to me, you know?”

Sanzo was idly twirling a second cigarette in his fingers, having finished his first one way back at the beginning of the long winded story that sounded like a lot of melodramatic bullshit. Humans, demons, gods, spirits… None of them were immune to being ignorant little pricks. 

The idea of a fucking teddy bear  _ Boogeyman  _ was at least amusing if not utterly ridiculous, “Ever think he just wants to fuck you?”

Goku had his mouth open with the intention to respond to Jack when Sanzo spoke first, and the Monkey King did nothing but turn stunned eyes on his very long term boyfriend. He had been  _ sure  _ Sanzo wasn’t even listening. Two millennia and he still couldn’t predict the bastard.

“It’s occurred to me,” Jack shrugged honestly, “but if that was  _ all  _ he wanted, I feel like he would have done something by now. Like, even gone in for a kiss, you know? You don’t spend weeks with someone you  _ just  _ want to fuck and don’t even give them a  _ kiss.”  _

“You’d be surprised what kind of games you’re willing to play with nothing but time on your hands,” Sanzo muttered with a sidelong look at Goku. 

“Leave my solitaire obsession out of this,” Goku muttered back with narrowed eyes.

Jack laughed at the two of them and shook his head, “I know. I know we all have eternity. Maybe I will get hurt in the end, but it’s not like anybody  _ else  _ wants to fuck me. Hardly anybody even has  _ time  _ for me, and I’m pretty done with the whole  _ alone  _ thing. It could be worth it, and I think I should be allowed to find out.”

Sanzo took his eyes off Goku, who he’d been smirking at, to raise an eyebrow at the spirit boy, “Meaning you want him to fuck you.”

“Meaning  _ if  _ he wants to fuck me,” Jack stressed, although it was silly to stress something that had a high probability and might not be as one-sided as this conversation implied, “I’ll probably let him. It could be nice, and if it isn’t, I’m strong enough to stop him. Where’s the risk?”

“In your heart,” Goku answered immediately, back to mimicking Jack’s fidgeting with his staff, “But promise if you change your mind to freeze his balls first so we can make that joke for the rest of forever.”

Jack almost couldn’t answer, he was laughing so hard, “I promise!”

Even Sanzo scoffed a little chuckle, and then he was lighting his cigarette, “In the meantime, you can tell the rest of those assholes to go fuck themselves.”

“So I don’t sound like I haven’t thought about this enough, to you?” Jack asked of Sanzo. He’d ask Goku, but that would be counter-productive.

The blond priest shrugged, “M’not gonna sit here and say a few weeks is long enough to know someone’s true character, but if you have a good feeling and it’s what you want to do, who gives a shit what anyone else thinks?” 

Jack liked hearing that. It was practically a summary of his own thoughts, and it was nice to hear them finally coming out of someone else. “I see why they made you a priest.”

It was Goku’s turn to fold in laughter, shaking his head, “That’s not why they made him a priest.”

Sanzo exhaled a steady stream of smoke like nothing in the world could bother him, “Probably the most priestly thing I’ve done.”

Goku snorted, “As if.”

There was a lot of history there, so Jack didn’t ask. Instead he thought about what Sanzo had said, about the few weeks. “So how much time  _ do  _ you think is long enough to know someone?” It seemed the natural question to follow. Jack didn’t want to wait a couple millennia to have sex if that was where it all was heading.

Sanzo shrugged again. For a fun-loving troublemaker, Jack sure knew how to ask the loaded questions, “Until you know them. It’s not the amount of time that’s important, it’s what happens during it.”

It was unfortunate that such a vague answer sounded so damn reasonable. Jack was hoping for a checklist that he could analyze and dismiss checkboxes from at will, but of course, only North dealt with the world on paper titled Naughty and Nice. 

So he gave a hopeful smile, and spun on his heel, “Then I guess I better go make some more things happen, huh?”

Goku grinned at him, proud as he always was of Sanzo’s hidden heart, “That’s my kind of plan!”

...Sanzo suddenly groaned and ran his fingers through his hair thinking about how he was giving  _ life advice  _ to an  _ eternal frost spirit _ about emotional shit, and it was just, “Fuck, I  _ do  _ feel like a damn priest…” 

The earth child snickered shamelessly, “Been a while, huh?”

“Not long enough,” Sanzo narrowed his eyes over at Jack, “Yeah, you go and make shit happen. I’m responsible for  _ none of it,  _ got it?” 

“Don’t worry,” Jack winked before hopping onto the wind again, “I would  _ never  _ make the mistake of implying you actually  _ cared.”  _

And just before the Guardian of Fun was out of earshot, he heard Goku say a bit too loudly, “Here, Sanzo, let me help you feel less like a monk, again.”

 

* * *

 

 

Having been nearly banished to  _ death _ , the King of Nightmares found himself sleeping much more often as of late. For the past few weeks, he learned he required at least an hour nap in a span of eight hours, in addition to his usual rest. The Nightmares were still as ravenous for the taste of fear as  _ he  _ was, and until they could reach an equilibrium, Pitch needed the aid of sleep to at least keep him physically well. 

Of course his usual resting place, the  _ bedroom,  _ was still left a mess from Jack’s little prank, and with it being weeks away from being inhabitable, Pitch had to improvise. 

So he found some spare cushions, blankets, and pillows and lined the inside of his hollow globe that monitored his believers. Or lack thereof. Luckily being  _ inside  _ the globe blocked out the obnoxious light of fearless children. 

Pitch had passed out for a nice, dreamless sleep. He didn’t notice the intruder until he’d hit the hour mark. 

It was while he was slowly drifting towards consciousness that he picked up on the temperature. That  _ perfect  _ coolness that made you want to burrow further under the blankets and just bask because it was entirely too comfortable. Pitch made the mistake of reaching for it again and pulling it close. 

He should have known by now. It’d been happening more and more frequently. “Damn it, Jack…” 

The frost spirit made an unintelligible noise in a whiny tone and flopped over gracelessly. It was long, silent seconds later that he seemed to wake up a little and ask accusingly, “You ‘wake yet?”

“Yes I’m awake,” Pitch almost sounded  _ reluctant _ admitting to it. He’d rolled onto his own back where he kept his hands to himself, “I’m beginning to suspect you’re  _ purposely  _ coming over when I’m asleep.” 

Unlike Pitch, who was physically an adult, Jack was physically eighteen forever and there was just something biological about teenagers and waking up. 

So Jack refused to move and merely slurred, “‘M jus’ lucky, I guess.”

Damnit, Jack just had to be adorable about it too. Pitch sighed, and figured he didn’t need to be a responsible adult either, so he reached over and pretended he was running his fingers through white hair like he was making it neater, “Lucky, hm?”

“Mmhm,” Jack hummed, smiling at the way those fingers made his skin tingle. Nobody had done that since his mother, and he only even  _ knew  _ that because he’d sat down with Toothiana and squeezed everything out of his teeth that he could. The memory was nothing like feeling it now. “So  _ comfy…”  _

“Hmm… Must be,” Pitch commented with a growing smile of his own. The only real proof he had that anyone  _ enjoyed _ his touch was the Nightmares, and there was a clear bias there. But here Jack was almost like putty, “I’m not used to seeing you stay in one spot for so long.”

Jack was no longer sure if he was trying to wake up or trying to stay asleep. He was pretty happy with the limbo he was in, but still, he sounded more awake when he responded this time, “Don’t usually sleep on beds. Trees. Snow.”

“Indeed,” Pitch’s fingertips brushed over the nape of Jack’s neck where his hairline just ended, watching the boy lay there useless, “Should I let you rest then? You’re welcome to keep my bed cold as long as you want.” 

“No…” Jack shook his head, which effectively snuggled his face deeper into the blankets, and sighed, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“That sounds like the beginning of a prank if I’ve ever heard one.”

That made Jack laugh, muffled by the pillows, “It’s about the Guardians. I told them about you. Not like a confession, but it came up in conversation, and then like an intervention.”

“Oh.” ...Well that was. Sobering. Pitch was expecting it sooner or later, but he supposed he’d been hoping for a little more time. Now there would be… complications.  _ If  _ Jack wanted to stick around, that is. “Is this the part where you tell me this is the last time you’ll be coming here?”

“Huh?” Jack’s head snapped up, confused by the question Jack didn’t see the logic behind. Until, “What? No! I was much nicer about it, but in Sanzo’s words, I told them to go fuck themselves.”

Which promptly made the Boogeyman laugh. Oh what he would have given to see the looks on the other Guardians’ faces. The very idea made him giddy. “And how did they handle  _ that?  _ Should I be preparing myself for an ambush?” 

“I left,” Jack confessed, “I couldn’t take any more of their stupid ranting, so I left. I have no idea what they might do, but the last thing they said to me was about Jamie, so I’m worried they’ll try to turn him on me. Not maliciously, but like, you know, thinking they’re helping me.”

“Ah. Yes, and what child would  _ ever  _ believe that Santa is lying to them,” Pitched mused, still stroking Jack’s hair soothingly through his dilemma while instinctively reading into his fears, “Children are so impressionable.” 

“Exactly,” Jack nodded, but only a little because he didn’t want to mess up Pitch’s petting, “And I know Jamie’s special and he might listen to me over them anyway, but I still... “ The frost spirit hesitated. It wasn’t a new thought, but now that he was saying it, Jack realized just how badly he wanted Pitch to be with him, “I still want to visit and tell him first. I want to be the one to tell him and explain and answer his questions. I want to make sure he hears everything I have to say, instead of being too upset to listen.”

Pitch failed to see the problem with any of that. It was perfectly reasonable and rational and well thought out. ….And yet obviously something was still wrong. He stopped his hands to raise his hairless brow at the winter spirit, “So why haven’t you yet? Why are you here and not with him?”

Jack bit his lip, then went for it, “I want you to come with me, so he knows I’m not lying, or being tricked, or hurt by you. I want you to be there to explain and answer his questions, too.”

….

Pitch’s expression was unreadable, but he followed with a confused, “Jack, you  _ can’t  _ be serious…” 

Jack was wearing his serious face. He knew he was, because it always felt a little heavy. “Pitch, it’s important to me.”

The Nightmare King frowned, already starting to shake his head. He remembered Jamie. He remembered the little brat well, especially when he… “Jack, he can’t even see me. My presence is meaningless.”

“He couldn’t see me at first, either. Like, the first  _ three  _ times we met. I’ll  _ tell  _ him you’re there, and he’ll believe.”

“Yes, because he won’t actually be  _ afraid  _ of me,” Pitch muttered lowly, hating every part of this idea and how  _ weak  _ it made him out to be, “I have nothing to explain to a child, Jack. I’m not going to make a case to prove I am who I am.” 

“We have  _ everything  _ to explain, Pitch,” Jack argued, finally sitting up to face him, “We have to explain that the world isn’t divided into just  _ good  _ and  _ bad.  _ We have to explain that people deserve second chances. We have to explain that good people do bad things for the right reasons, that good people do bad things for the  _ wrong  _ reasons. We have to explain that life means taking risks, because if we don’t, who will? North? Bunny? How do you think that lecture will look coming from them?”

“Isn’t this what their  _ parents  _ are for? I understand that  _ you  _ feel some sort of obligation to mentor your first believer, but the  _ Boogeyman  _ doesn’t visit children to explain the intricacies of a world that isn’t black and white. It would be entirely detrimental to  _ me  _ to prove that I’m not the monster he thinks, or  _ thought  _ I was.” 

“Well, I was  _ planning  _ on leaving those lessons to life, but that was before the other guardians named him like a weapon against me!” Jack wasn’t sure if the volume of his voice counted as shouting, but his tone probably did. He was just… He couldn’t believe that Pitch didn’t understand. This wasn’t about belief in Jack; this was about personal relationships and how few Jack had and how precious they were to him. If Jamie wasn’t afraid anyway, then what was the harm of explaining that Pitch was kind of cool? It wouldn’t hurt Pitch, but it  _ would  _ help Jack, and why wasn’t that a good enough reason?

“What makes you think he won’t take your word and your word alone? He adores you, Jack. Bringing  _ me  _ in on a damn leash to show that I’m  _ tame  _ is utterly demeaning. I’m trying to  _ restore  _ the belief in fear and nightmares, not make a laugh of it!” 

“Jamie wouldn’t laugh! He can tell when something’s important enough to take seriously.” Most kids could; it was adults who had no faith, not children. “But he  _ is  _ still a kid and he’s  _ going  _ to ask questions and I- _ Fuck,  _ Pitch, I just don’t want to do it  _ alone!”  _

Damnit. That  _ word  _ again. That word that kept pulling them together because they both knew it so well. Pitch made an exasperated growling sort of noise and stood up from his makeshift bed, pacing at the base of the globe. 

There really was no benefit for him talking to Jamie. It would purely be for Jack’s sake to lower himself to be… child-friendly. And not only that, Jamie had  _ friends _ and Jamie had a mouth and he was certain once they all heard that Jack has the Boogeyman as a  _ sidekick _ … No one was going to fear him. Not in that part of the world at least. How the Hell was he supposed to get his power back? 

He’d just have to work harder, make his nightmares  _ darker _ , frighten on a deeper level than before. 

Was it worth it? Was he really considering it because he wanted to keep Jack’s companionship?  _ That  _ badly? 

The shadow spirit looked over at the other on his bed, tense, angry, sad… Nothing about it gave Pitch that same sort of peace one of the boy’s  _ smiles  _ did, which was… worrisome in a sense. 

On the other hand, maybe he owed it to Jack. He came and found Pitch when he’d been sentenced to solitary confinement, and now Jack needed  _ his  _ support. Jack needed  _ him.  _ It had been far too long since he actually felt  _ needed  _ by someone. 

… Alright, maybe Kamui needed him, but this was different. With Jack, it was  _ always  _ different. 

“I am  _ not  _ comfortable with any part of this, I want you to know,” Pitch began, quiet but stern, “This will only make me weaker. But… I suppose if it truly means that much to you…” 

Jack was  _ so  _ ready to just… stay angry and do it on his own and  _ be  _ angry about it for as long as he could hold on to the feeling, that the words Pitch said stunned him into wide-eyed silence. Until he grinned, “You’re serious?”

For once that mischievous grin was  _ not  _ having its usual effect and Pitch was able to maintain his scowl, “ _ Don’t  _ give me the chance to rethink it.” 

In an instant, Jack was off the bed and flying at the Boogeyman, wrapping his arms around him in a burst of excited energy the exact same way Tooth had Jack all those months ago. There was no describing the way Jack felt right then. People didn’t  _ do  _ things for him.  _ Just  _ for him. It had been a long shot the moment Pitch disagreed with him because in Jack’s experience, if a spirit didn’t want to, they didn’t. 

“I  _ promise  _ it won’t weaken you. I’ll make sure Jamie knows you’re very scary, okay?”

Pitch couldn’t even roll his eyes- it was his turn to be stunned, having the icy spirit throw himself at him unlike anyone had ever done before. It was an automatic response to catch the younger boy, to make sure he hadn’t  _ fallen  _ or anything, but then words registered in his head and Pitch had his arms loosely around Jack’s body in turn. 

Maybe this reaction alone was worth what he was going to have to endure. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Jackie Boy.” 

Jack pushed himself back exactly as the fairy had done, too, “No, but I mean, you scare me  _ all the time,  _ and I still think you’re super creepy, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re going to  _ hurt  _ me. Does that really not count at all?”

Pitch dropped his arms back to his own sides, regrettably letting Jack and that irresistible coolness go. He shouldn’t have been getting sentimental when the boy obviously had someone else on his mind. “It.. does count. I still find your little bursts of fear to be quite tasty…” 

Jack nodded enthusiastically, then smirked, “Feel free to jump scare  _ the shit  _ out of Jamie. S’all in good  _ fun. _ ” ...Then he paused, thought about it, seemed to come to a conclusion, and shrugged, “Bonus points if you get us both at the same time.”

Pitch gave Jack a very pointed look for his distraction, “Are you sure that’s wise when you’re trying to have a serious conversation with him?” 

Jack smiled sheepishly, but his eyes said he knew he was getting away with something bad, “I think reflexively turning around and smacking you with my staff and  _ not  _ getting immediately eaten alive for it will prove  _ all  _ of my points much faster than a long talk.”

“It won’t matter if he doesn’t believe,” Pitch shook his head, “And once you tell him I’m there, I lose my element of surprise. I appreciate a good challenge, Jack, but if you’re still planning to talk to him about everything you told me about, I don’t think a jump scare would be appropriate. This time, anyway.” 

There was an odd quirk to Jack’s lips when he tilted his head indulgently and said, “I believe in you, Pitch. You’ll find a way.”

Then began the negotiations of how they were going to get  _ to  _ Jamie. Jack could fly pretty fast, but he didn’t know how well the wind could lift Pitch, and the Nightmare King wasn’t all-powerful again, but he could jump shadows reliably, except Jack  _ had a bad experience  _ last time and wasn’t one hundred percent enthusiastic about it.

Pitch won.

So it was with one last, “You’re not gonna drop me on the ground again, right?” that the Boogeyman gathered them up and whisked them away to the heart of Burgess. It wasn’t late in the night, more early evening, but kids had early evening bedtimes, so it was really perfect timing. They were in the room before Jamie, but that didn’t matter because Jamie’s mom couldn’t see Jack Frost and Pitch Black loitering in the corner while she tucked him in. Jamie’s face was  _ priceless,  _ though. And the way his mom kept laughing and brushing it off when she asked and he answered, “Jack Frost is here,” was pretty great, too. 

But it was obvious Jamie couldn’t see Pitch.

The moment the door shut, Jamie burst, “Jack! What’re you doing here?” and was promptly answered, “Go to sleep, Jamie,” through the door.

The Guardian of Fun snickered shamelessly.

“I have a bit of news for you, Buddy, and I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

"What is it?" he asked urgently, "Do the Guardians need help again?"

“Uh…” Jack’s honest answer was a positive, since they were being judgemental and mean about this whole thing and people like that could always use help being nicer, but technically, “No.”

“Oh,” and bless his heart, Jamie actually sounded disappointed. “Then what?”

Funny that a kid could think the only news worth telling was world-ending, “Do you remember  _ who  _ we needed help with last time, Jamie?”

Pitch scoffed, emerging from the corner he was standing in to eye Jamie, watching for his understanding and perhaps,  _ fear _ ? Knowing how children worked, the boy probably forgot about him entirely. 

That didn’t stop the Boogeyman from slowly pacing around him like a hungry shark. 

Jack was trying not to pay attention. Otherwise, he might laugh.

Jamie thoughtlessly made a noise of thinking, his mouth hung open while he tried to recall. It had been really important at the time, but it was over so fast and wasn’t important, anymore. He remembered lots of darkness, though… “Oh yeah! That Black guy!”

Jack was officially biting his own lips to keep from laughing. Oh shit. “I see your parents haven’t gotten to political correctness, yet.”

Pitch made a noise of frustration with a hand over his face. ‘That Black guy’? Really? That’s what he’d been reduced to? Fuck… 

“Hurry it up, Jack,” he bit out. 

The Guardian offered an apologetic, if terribly amused, smile before turning back to the child in the bed, “The  _ Boogeyman,  _ Jamie. The King of Nightmares. Don’t you remember? When no one could have sweet dreams?”

It made Jack’s chest ache to see the light in Jamie’s eyes dull with the pain of unpeaceful nights and shaken faith, but he knew Jamie was strong enough to handle it. He had once, after all. He would do it again, always.

“Oh yeah,” Jamie said, quiet, far more reserved than he had been when the conversation began, “I remember.”

“He remembers his  _ fear _ ,” Pitch elaborated, sounding almost  _ smug  _ about it. He could sense the uneasy emotions from the young human, and it was  _ some  _ comfort to the situation, but not much. The child still hadn’t noticed him yet, or was vehemently denying the possibility. Pitch made sure to loom his full height over Jamie like the bedtime monster he  _ was _ , challenging him to face his fears. 

Jack couldn’t help his instinctive thought that Pitch was being kind of a dick. Jamie was scared and trying to remember and Jack wanted him to understand why the Guardian of Fun would choose to spend time with him and the Nightmare King was just trying to scare him  _ more,  _ “Pitch, don’t be mean.”

“You  _ said  _ I could sca---” but Pitch didn’t get to lodge his complaint.

“He’s  _ here?!”  _ Jamie cried in the quietest rendition of a shriek Jack had ever heard, kicking backwards on his bed until he hit the wall behind him and pulling both his knees and the blanket up to cover him, poor shields against the danger, “Jack! You have to  _ do  _ something!”

“Jamie, it’s alright,” the frost spirit assured in a gentle tone, “He’s not going to hurt you.” Jack wasn’t sure where to begin now. He had wanted to take this slow, but his own big mouth spoiled that plan. 

Now  _ there  _ was some fear Pitch could sink his teeth into. He settled for a satisfied smirk and backed away from the bed, taking a spot next to Jack. Certainly he could torment the child, but that would not be helping Jack’s case. And Jack’s case was the only reason he was here. “Does that mean he can see me?” the Nightmare King asked, sounding bored. 

Jamie’s absolute look of utter terror said he could and Jack spared one hand to grip Pitch’s arm before he was moving forward, crawling onto the bed to be with the child who needed him, “Jamie, he only came because I wanted him to, because I wanted you to meet him. He’s my  _ friend  _ now, Jamie.”

Confused horror was an interesting look on Jamie’s wide open, expressive face. And helplessly cute, too. Like a proper child, he latched onto the most recent piece of information, “How can you be friends with someone like him? He tried to kill you!”

Jack gathered up every ounce of his acting ability to look stern when all he felt was worried. “Jamie,” he made sure to keep using his name, to ground him in the familiarity he had with Jack, “are you going to try and tell me that you’ve never lashed out when you were angry and hurt someone just because?”

_ Every  _ kid could relate to that. It was an early childhood lesson to  _ stop it.  _ Not everyone caught on.

Although Pitch personally considered his motives more grand and noble than  _ just because.  _

But they were dealing with a child, so the Boogeyman would let it slide for now.

Those big eyes turned bashful for a brief second and then he was fierce again. Good ol’ Jamie. “But he’s the  _ Nightmare King.  _ Hurting people is what he does!”

Jack shook his head quickly, losing everything back to worry,  _ “Scaring  _ people is what he does. Nightmares are only dreams, Jamie. Bad dreams, horrible dreams, but  _ dreams.  _ Only  _ you  _ can let fear hurt you. Understand?"

It was the kind of single-mindedly brave concept that worked well with kids like Jamie, and Jack could see him taking it to heart. Jamie liked it best when it was the strength of his heart between him and failure, because his heart would always win. 

“Then  _ why?”  _

Jack smiled, because that was the question he  _ wanted  _ to answer, and he liked that his first believer asked it. 

“Do you remember how surprised I was when you saw me the first time?” Jamie nodded mutely, reminiscent of the event, but with a lot less blunt shock on his face, “That was because nobody had for three hundred years.  _ Three hundred years,  _ Jamie! I was alone that long.” And before the child who was too empathic for his own good could figure out how truly heartbreaking that was, he pushed on, “And you remember how the Guardians had banished Pitch into that dark hole in the ground?” 

Pitch’s own expression changed to something bitter reminiscent of  _ that _ event. He knew where Jack was going and damn if it wasn’t going to make him sound  _ pathetic _ … 

“Well, he was alone down there. It’s no fun being alone when you don’t want to be, you know that, right?” And Jamie was nodding hesitantly now, like he didn’t  _ want  _ Jack to be right, and shit, this kid could grow up to be really good at chess. Or poker. “And I’m the  _ Guardian  _ of Fun, you know? So I had to go make sure he didn’t feel how I had felt when I was alone, and now we’re friends. See?”

...Alright that wasn’t so bad. And it was the truth. Leave it to Jack to remain honest while explaining something complicated to a young human. Most adults  _ or  _ the Guardians would have come up with some fantastic lie, Pitch was sure.

Jamie had a flat, suspiciously unimpressed look on his face that made Jack smile nervously and hope, which was hilarious because he was the fucking adult, here. 

“I know you’re not telling me everything,” the strongest believer of them all finally admitted, tension leaving his body in the way only safety can manage, “but I  _ trust  _ you, Jack. So if you think he’s okay, then I can try, too. I mean, look at Cupcake! She’s scary, but she’s also really nice.”

Oh God, he really needed the politically correct lecture, but Jack wasn’t going to do it, and he was too pleased with the results to worry about it now. “Thanks, Jamie. I promise, he’s scary, and a little mean sometimes, but he’s fun, too. I  _ promise.”  _

A well-lectured child, Jamie rolled his eyes like a pro, “I get it.”

….Pitch wasn’t sure how he felt about being compared to someone named Cupcake. Cupcakes were  _ not scary _ . More importantly though, he was floored that Jamie had accepted Jack’s limited story so easily, like Jack’s word was law, and he wasn’t sure how much of that had to do with his fondness for Jack or his childlike fascination that he was talking to a spirit. If the other Guardians came, would he just as easily believe one of their stories? 

Ultimately Jack knew Jamie better than Pitch did, so if Jack was satisfied, there was nothing left for him to think. Though he  _ was  _ missing the boy’s horror that had been filling the air. Gods, it’d been  _ too long _ since he felt fear that strong and it made Pitch  _ ache  _ to feel complete again,  _ powerful  _ again. There was still a lingering fear around, but Jack had tempered it down to a fraction of what it’d been before. 

He needed to get back out there and spread more nightmares. Perhaps he needed to thoroughly abuse this  _ horror _ that his quick return brought in children, and it was just the right time of year too. 

As soon as Jack was finished trying to paint him as a  _ good guy.  _ “And here I thought you said I wasn’t any good at the whole  _ fun  _ thing…” 

Jack turned around and smacked him in the side, "I said you weren't as good as you  _ thought _ you were, not that you weren't fun  _ at all. _ You're so bad at listening." Then he faced Jamie again and crawled further up the bed until they were side by side against the wall. Jack leaned down and stage-whispered to the child, "He's so bad at listening!"

Pitch folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side, studying how Jack was almost teaming up against him for  _ Jamie’s  _ sake. Little brat. Why wasn’t he surprised?

“Oh, Jack,” he smirked, voice heavy with implication and carried with a sly smirk, “If only you knew how  _ good  _ I actually am.” But he then turned towards the child, and leaned over as if it would somehow make the communication with the mortal easier. “The reason Jack brought me here was in case you had any questions about this… arrangement. So tell me, child, what do you want to know?”

Jack wasn’t really the type to blush, since he was more often the one teasing than being teased, but fuck if he wasn’t blushing now. It would go over Jamie’s head, thankfully, but Pitch had been really fucking obvious and Jack had totally walked into it by arranging all this. The conversation with Sanzo was fresh in his mind and that probably had a lot to do with why he couldn’t just shrug it off like normal. 

He kind of wanted to know how serious Pitch was, now.

He couldn’t ask now. He didn’t know if he could ask ever.

Jamie had giggled at their banter, but now his eyes were bright and serious as he regarded the Boogeyman, “Why do you have to scare people?”

Fortunately for Jack, Pitch only got to observe that blush for a second before all of his attention was diverted. This was that  _ case  _ he didn’t want to have to build. Having to explain himself would take all the unknown out of the Boogeyman, and the unknown was what mortals feared most. 

“Because the same way your belief in the Guardians sustains them,  _ fear _ sustains me. Without it, I would disappear forever.” 

Jamie’s face fell as he thought about those words, and his expression settled somewhere between confused and upset and Jack looped an arm around his shoulders in support and comfort on instinct, “But… Wait, doesn’t that mean you would  _ die  _ if no one was scared?... So the Guardians were trying to kill  _ you?!” _

“They’ve been  _ trying  _ for centuries,” Pitch scoffed like it was old news. 

Jamie kind of looked like his world was ending and Jack had to say something, “See, Jamie, the Guardians protect children.  _ Just  _ children. We protect… what childhood is supposed to be, and what Pitch was trying to do would have ruined childhood for everyone, so we had to fight him. And last time wasn’t the first time,” although it was for  _ Jack,  _ “which is why the other Guardians dislike Pitch so much. But I don’t think it  _ has  _ to be that way, do you?”

Jamie didn’t seem to have an answer to that, but he was seven, so…

“Fear is key to self-preservation, you know. Can you imagine what it would be like if your friends weren’t afraid to run into a busy intersection? Or wander alone into the woods at night? Swim into deep waters or play with fire? Fear has a purpose as much as fun or hope or wonder. It’s just the purpose no one likes to think about compared to egg hunts and Christmas trees.” And if Jamie could understand that, Pitch would have been impressed. 

Pitch clearly didn’t understand the sponge-like aspect of children. Jamie could accept it as truth because an adult said it, and it was from the new foundation that his understanding would make leaps. “So you’re like a really unfun Guardian?”

Jack almost swallowed his own tongue choking on his laughter.

Pitch was thusly  _ not  _ impressed. He looked at Jamie flatly before shaking his head, “More of an… anti-Guardian, if you will.”

“But you said you keep us  _ safe,”  _ Jamie steadfastly reminded.

Jack was helpless beside him.

“I’m helping you think to keep  _ yourself  _ safe,” Pitch argued back.

Jack was curled on his side. Oh God, Pitch sounded so adorably, resolutely,  _ desperately  _ pouty.

And it was his turn to have Jamie roll his eyes at him, “Same diff.”

Pitch frowned, affronted at the  _ sight  _ of an insolent little brat rolling his eyes at the Nightmare King. He wondered if that was better or worse than having the boy see  _ through  _ him. “It most certainly is  _ not.  _ The Boogeyman does not  _ protect  _ children. If everyone started believing that, I’d be damned either way.” 

The  _ look  _ on Pitch’s face had Jack biting his own fist to muffle his giggles but the way that monologue had ended sobered him up a little. Slowly, Jack sat up and held his hands out to the Nightmare King, “C’mon, Pitch. Would it really ruin you if people learned to respect and embrace their fear? Because I think that’s all Jamie means.”

“I  _ do  _ have a reputation to uphold, and all of this is exactly why I did not want to come here and have this talk,” Pitch turned his disgruntled look on Jack, whose muffled laughter had  _ not  _ gone unnoticed. 

Jack wiggled his fingers like he thought Pitch might have missed that his hands were there, “No one’s saying you aren’t dark and scary. In fact, we’re saying you  _ are  _ and it’s a  _ good  _ thing. Right, Jamie?”

Best friend ever, Jamie instantly agreed, “Right.”

Golden eyes flicked down at those cold hands, which just made him furrow further into confusion, and then Pitch was glaring at the ice spirit again. Until it was his turn to roll his eyes and bring a hand up to his temple, exasperated, “Ugh. Now you’re just patronizing me.” 

Jack shrugged one shoulder with a shameless, albeit shy, grin, “Yeah, a little.”

“Fantastic,” came the reply dripping with sarcasm as Pitch started walking his way towards the nearest shadow, “Well then, if I’ve answered all of your questions I really  _ must  _ be going…” 

Jack was up off of the bed before he knew what he was doing, but that was okay, because all he really needed to be doing was going after Pitch, “Don’t be melodramatic, Boogeyman! I-” Jack never got to finish and find out what was going to come out of his mouth.

Jamie had let out something that sounded like a resolved whimper. That child was so brave already, Jack wondered what he might be like in a few years, with real strength behind him.

Shaky but strong words followed, “Does this mean I’m going to have bad dreams, again?”

…

Pitch had to concede; it was a valid question. Per the agreement, he stopped his retreat Jack had been trying to prevent and turned to face Jamie, “Tonight? Probably not. But it may happen occasionally in the future. The Nightmares are  _ very  _ hungry...”

Jack wasn’t surprised that Pitch was creepy about this, he was almost glad of it, even. But he wanted Jamie to understand, so he turned around, too, “Everybody has bad dreams sometimes, Jamie. Bad dreams are  _ normal.  _ It’s  _ not  _ normal to  _ never  _ have bad dreams. You get that, right?”

Jamie knew that was true, but it didn’t make him any more eager to have them. Bad dreams were called bad for a reason, and he didn’t  _ want  _ them even if he accepted that he would  _ have  _ them. “Yeah…”

Jack smiled encouragingly, “Be strong, Jamie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be afraid, too.”

“In fact, I would recommend being as afraid as you can possibly be,” Pitch pointed out with a single finger. Boogeyman. Reputation. It was necessary, damnit. 

...It was weird how Jack was starting to really like Pitch being creepy. 

He would explore that in more depth sometime when there wasn’t a seven year old in the room. Or was he eight by now? Jack crept forward, crouching as he neared the bed, “I know you’re scared, Jamie, but we’re gonna have fun, okay?”

The boy nodded, slowly inching away from the wall and back to where he would normally sit on his bed, “Okay. I believe you, Jack. I believe  _ in  _ you.”

The sweetest words Jack ever heard. 

The Guardian of Fun twitched his staff toward the ceiling and released a burst of fluffy, drifting snow into the room before backing away to where Pitch still was. He waved in parting. It was time to leave while the note was still high. 

But Pitch always had to exit with a little flair. He sunk back into the shadows, entire body covered in darkness save for glowing eyes and a devious Cheshire grin. Dark tendrils that looked like misshapen hands crept forward to encircle Jack around his waist and around his mouth, yanking him into the darkness where it looked like there was no escape. 

His parting remark was followed with an eerie, echoing chuckle, “ _ Sweet dreams _ , Jamie.” 

And then they were gone. 

 

The hand did a good job gagging Jack until they spilled back into the world on Pitch’s temporary bed inside the globe. And then he laughed, because oh God, that was just as awful as North’s yetis throwing him in a bag and tying it tight, except that Jack  _ expected  _ this of Pitch and yet was surprised when he really did it. 

Fuck. He had no idea how Jamie would react to it. 

Rolling over, Jack pushed himself up into a sitting position and, abandoning his staff to the pillows, grabbed the Boogeyman by his robes and shook him violently, “If you just undid all of my hard work, I’m gonna freeze your balls and let Goku make jokes about it for eternity!”

Pitch just let Jack have his moment, a smug grin on his lips like he could barely contain the laugh that didn’t want to stop echoing. He let it continue for a good ten seconds before he was leaning in close to Jack’s boyishly attractive face, their noses nearly brushing over each other when he was shaken again. “But  _ Jack _ ,” his voice was low and smooth, even while he was mockingly whining the name, “You  _ said  _ I could scare him...” 

That stopped the frost spirit short and he wasn’t really sure what this feeling was, but he liked it. Maybe it wasn’t Pitch who wanted to fuck Jack.

Or maybe creepy just did it for him. Now wasn’t the time. The Guardian of Fun shoved the Shadowman back, leaving ice crystals stuck to the robe in the wake of his hands, “I kind of figured when you did, he’d get to see me  _ laugh  _ after so he’d know it was okay. Now he’s alone and…” With a tiny chuckle, Jack pulled his knees up and rested his arms on them, “Now, I have to believe in him and hope for the best. Nevermind, I guess it’s not that bad.”

Pitch fell back onto the cushions with Jack’s shove, the shade looking utterly content with his work, folding his hands behind his head and enjoying the chill on chest. He found he really didn’t mind if Jack kept touching him with that ice of his. It was so strangely  _ soothing _ … 

Oh, but they were still talking about Jamie and foiling all of Jack’s efforts. In Pitch’s mind, turnabout was fair play. “Visit him again if you’re that concerned about it. I think we can agree my being there does more harm than good, hm?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. He really needed to stop being surprised around this guy. Slamming his closed fist into Pitch’s thigh, the frost spirit accused, “You did that on  _ purpose!”  _

Alright,  _ that  _ one had Pitch making a choked noise, jerking up into a half curled position to belatedly protect himself. Jack was nearing  _ sensitive  _ areas now and that wasn’t the kind of touching he would have liked there. Unfortunate. 

Recomposed a moment later, Pitch fixed Jack with a skeptical look, “Of  _ course  _ I did it on purpose. It’s what I  _ do _ , Jack.”

“I mean the kid thing!” Jack exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “You were a jerk so I wouldn’t make you go see Jamie again!”

“I’m one-hundred percent positive that me being a ‘jerk’ is simply me being  _ me.  _ I mean, if you really insist I scare him  _ again… _ ”

Jack rolled his eyes and fell sideways against the cushions. It really was a very cool bed. “And I’m one hundred percent positive that you could scare him and still be polite about it. You’re nice enough to  _ me…”  _

“Yes well, you’ve always been a special case,  _ Jack _ ,” Pitch let the honesty slip, and then promptly covered it up, “Besides I don’t recall being  _ rude.  _ I didn’t call him a brat as much as I may have been thinking it.”

The Guardian smirked from where his face was pressed into the pillows, “You’re such a Grinch. I’m painting you green for Christmas.”

“You do, and that will be the end of this little alliance we have going.” 

“I’ll wear a fluffy little tail and put on antlers?”

“And I’ll be greatly entertained, but you still won’t be painting me green.” 

“Oh wait, that’s right, it was just one antler,” Jack mused, ignoring Pitch’s objection.

“Hmph. Christmas is overrated anyway. Now  _ Halloween  _ is a holiday worth celebrating…” 

The frost spirit gave him a sideways, speculative,  _ playful  _ look, “Okay, you can be the Grinch for Halloween, then.”

“Absolutely  _ not,”  _ Pitch was suddenly animated, glaring out at nothing in particular, “It’s bad enough that overgrown child gets to encroach on Thanksgiving, in addition to his own month long celebration. He does  _ not  _ get to have  _ any  _ part of Halloween.” 

“Does that mean you would rather pull a Nightmare Before Christmas in December?”

That put a  _ much  _ more agreeable expression on Pitch’s face, wistful even, as he fell back into bed next to Jack, “Now  _ there’s  _ an idea,” he grinned, “Think between the two of us we could kidnap North and string him up to a giant roulette wheel of death while I break out into song?”

Which he promptly did, oozing sarcasm and confidence in a low baritone, just because he could,

_ “Mister Oogie Boogey says there’s trouble close at hand _

_ You better pay attention now, ‘cause I’m the Boogeyman _

_ And if you aren’t shaking, there’s something very wrong _

_ ‘Cause this may be the last time you hear the Boogey song,”  _ Pitch stopped there with a little laugh, thinking of the movie he may have seen one too many times, “Ah. A horrible portrayal, but  _ great  _ music. Nice to know I have  _ some  _ fans out there.”

Holy fuck, Pitch had just  _ sung  _ to him. Or for him. Or just sung, but it didn’t matter to Jack. Of course he had  _ seen  _ couples sing to each other countless times, but he had no idea that it felt so different when they knew you were there, when  _ you  _ were the intended audience. It was  _ hot,  _ and damn it, Sanzo’s words couldn’t have come at a worse time. Or was it the best time? Would Jack feel any different about this if he hadn’t been contemplating sex with Pitch a couple of hours ago?

His heart was rapidly beating and Jack didn’t think he should stay quiet for much longer, but he really didn’t know what to say. So he said something stupid and flirty on auto-pilot, “Is this what love feels like?”

….

….Wait. ….What? 

Pitch… well he had to roll over and face Jack with a question like that. Which  _ must  _ have been a joke or a beginning of a prank or  _ something.  _ Studying the frost spirit’s expression, he was going to put his non-existent money on teasing. Jack was teasing him. 

Pitch’s mouth was open like he was  _ going  _ to reply, but nothing came out right away. His brain was still trying to catch up and staring into those clear blue eyes was not actually helping it. 

Jack’s brain caught up to his mouth first and he grinned, “I  _ definitely  _ think we should kidnap North and string him up to a giant roulette wheel on Christmas Eve, and I  _ definitely  _ think we should make him think we’re not gonna let him go all night. I mean we will, but only after he’s properly panicking about it. It would drive the yetis  _ insane.  _ And would be perfect revenge for tying me up in a sack and throwing me through a portal. Kidnapping for kidnapping.  _ Definitely  _ fair.”

...That wasn’t the follow up Pitch had been expecting. But then he didn’t know  _ what  _ he was expecting. Jack was all over the place, yet he always managed to come back to his center-  _ fun.  _ So the Shadowman figured he’d stay there too, where he had a chance of being able to figure out what Frost might be thinking. 

Because honestly, where had  _ love  _ come from? 

And why was he so insatiably curious about how Jack had landed there? 

His laugh this time was a bit forced in his effort to get back to the conversation, traces of confusion still on the Boogeyman’s face, “I.... I’ll start designing a roulette wheel.” 

Jack laughed too, but his was far more natural and carefree, “Make sure it’s  _ super  _ creepy,  _ and  _ after we let him go, I’m totally up for letting him pass over Jamie’s house, then sneaking in and decking his room out in skeletons and spiders and stuff. Maybe I can’t cover the globe in one night like the rest of them, but we can at least freak Jamie out.”

Pitch’s expression softened considerably and he reached out to place his hands on those slim shoulders where he could confess dramatically, “Oh _ Jack _ . This will be the best Christmas  _ ever. _ ” 

The Guardian hadn’t needed to hear those words, the fun Pitch was having just thinking about it was already calling out to him. It felt like a job well done and they hadn’t even done it yet. Jack… was really fucking excited.  _ This  _ was exactly what he had hoped for: to sustain Pitch with scary but harmless pranks that both of them could enjoy. 

“Only if we pull it off,” he reminded eagerly, “so put all of those planning skills of yours to use because you know  _ I  _ don’t have any.”

Pitch looked like he already had five working theories going on in his mind to lure the jolly red man into their elaborate trap. He was nodding at Jack with a rare enthusiasm in his silvery-gold eyes, “North isn’t going to know what hit him,” he promised, “We’ll probably need to hide in the shadows until Valentine’s Day afterwards.” 

Jack shook his head, “I’m not gonna hide. I’m a Guardian, and they either love me or they don’t, but I’m not going to pretend my center is anything but fun. I told them when they offered it to me, I’m not about hard work and deadlines, and they let me take the oath anyway. I didn’t hide after the blizzard of ‘68, and I won’t hide now. North will just have to deal, and I think he’ll do a better job of it than Bunny.”

“That’s all well and good for you, but I’m sworn by no such oath. They’ll let it slide if it’s you. For  _ me _ , …perhaps I can invade Yin’s space for a while until they all calm down.”

With mock earnestness and wide, honest eyes, Jack took one of Pitch’s hands between his own and assured, “Don’t worry, Pitch. I’ll protect you.”

That made Pitch laugh in a way he was sure he hadn’t in  _ years.  _ Someone to protect the  _ Boogeyman _ ? How delightfully absurd. He returned the handhold to play along anyway. “Oh yes. My  _ hero _ .”

Jack was feeling so good from all this  _ fun  _ between them, “If you can find me some shiny armor, I’ll even wear it.”

“Will you ride in on a Nightmare too?” Pitch smirked, tilting his head, “I just may  _ swoon. _ ”

“If they’ll let me,” Jack didn’t have to pretend to be earnest anymore, “It would be worth it to see that.”

“I’m flattered,” the shade chuckled, using his unoccupied hand to ruffle Jack’s hair playfully. What a damn tease. Was he such a flirt with all the spirits he came across? Most likely. “If you can accept fear without letting it consume you, I’m sure we can find a Nightmare willing to put up with you. Maybe we can ride together sometime.”

Jack remembered riding from when he was human. He didn’t get to much, horses were expensive, but he’d loved it at the time. It barely took Jack five seconds to come to a decision, “How about now?”

 

* * *

 

 

As Halloween inched ever nearer, it put Pitch in a better and better mood. Children were more susceptible to fear the closer they were to the ultimate night of horror and it made nightmares more potent. Finally he was back up to being able to conjure the shadows at will and properly  _ arm  _ himself. Nightmares were steadily multiplying and no longer did Pitch feel quite so  _ starved.  _ Still hungry, but not  _ starved.  _

It gave him the confidence to freely roam on the upper world with the mortals, as if he was scouting for his next meal. This evening he’d found himself in a park around dusk, listening to a pair of teenagers talk about what they were going to be for Halloween. It brought a smirk to his gray face. 

A smirk that only widened when he noticed a solitary figure on a bench up ahead with  _ strikingly  _ familiar hair. Pitch immediately jumped into the first shadow he could find… 

And reappeared behind the bench seconds later to loom over the lone occupant, ‘Mother’ Nature himself, “It never ceases to impress me how  _ well  _ you blend in with the rest of them.” 

Fuuma gave no indication that he was startled, or even that he had not known Pitch was there the whole time, “Technically, it’s necessary. Since they  _ all  _ believe.”

“Must be  _ nice, _ ” Pitch remarked with just a touch of bitterness, but it was easily brushed aside, “Am I interrupting you from something important? Birdwatching maybe?” 

Mother Nature shook his head and waved airily, “You know I always have time for you, Boogeyman. Why don’t you sit down?”

Pitch smirked and made his way around to the front of the bench to have a seat next to an old friend, “Still as charming as ever, I see.” 

“I make an effort with you,” Fuuma promised, but they both knew it was bullshit. The spirit of the Earth reached up to knock his sunglasses down his nose to look at Pitch over the top of the lenses, “You’re looking good considering that mess earlier this year. Glad to see you back already.”

The Nightmare King chuckled quietly, making himself comfortable under Fuuma’s scrutiny while giving the man a once over himself. It should have been a crime how he made those ridiculously tiny sunglasses look  _ that  _ good. “I had a little help from a troublemaking frost spirit, and a certain candle-biter…” 

Fuuma blinked, suddenly looking interested in such a passive way that it was only by comparison to a second ago that anyone would know the difference, “Kamui visited you?”

Pitch knew the difference, and the way his grin grew in size definitely said so. How to phrase this delicately… “He did. He came into my bedroom and demanded I take his candle. He made me take it the  _ whole night _ …” 

Fuuma offered nothing but an unimpressed look. “Your innuendo needs help.”

Pitch offered exactly zero apologies, “No need to be jealous. Have you been able to harass him lately?” 

“Not lately,” Fuuma turned his gaze on the nearby trees instead, “I’ve been waiting for the right time. Courting that dragon takes patience.”

“Courting?” Pitch repeated with interest, “Did you finally make it to that stage and I missed it?” 

“Just because he doesn’t  _ acknowledge  _ it doesn’t mean I haven’t been courting him since day one.”

“Ah.” So that was a no, nothing had changed. Instead of offering any sympathy, Pitch instead chose to respect that after all this time Fuuma  _ still  _ wouldn’t give up. It was tragic as much as it was admirable. “You know, he came to see me in the hopes that bringing back the darkness would allow him to rest. Maybe you should go help him unwind.” 

Fuuma was still for several long, intense seconds before he smiled, just a small curl at the edge of his lips, “I think I will. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until you’ve unwound him  _ good _ ,” Pitch was smiling back. He was no Cupid, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t encourage a good plan or two when it came to that sort of thing. “So since you haven’t tripped him in a field of flowers and had your wicked way with him yet, what else have you been up to? Have you been sharing ice cream with someone else?” 

“Goku, of course,” Fuuma answered immediately, “My child is always up for ice cream.” And then he shifted on the bench, resting one arm along the back to lean in conspiratorially, “Why, did you want some?”

It was only a natural response for Pitch; If Fuuma was leaning in, he was going in half way to meet him. The spirit of the Earth was one of  _ very  _ few comfortable with the proximity to darkness. “I can’t say that’s what I had intended for when I came out this way, but if you wanted… For old time’s sake.” 

Fuuma’s smile widened into a grin, “I would  _ love  _ some.” 

And then Mother Nature leaned away, “You steal it. They’ll notice me.”

Pitch kept his groan internal. Sneaking ice cream meant  _ at least  _ one person would be walking through him. It was such an unpleasant feeling…  But, it was for Fuuma so, “Rocky Road? Or, ooh I bet Pumpkin’s on the menu by now…” 

“Pumpkin spice,” Fuuma nodded, “Done deal. I’ve never forgotten how much you love this season. Get the largest size; we’ll go through it.”

They would. There wasn’t even a question of that. 

Pitch rose from the bench and sunk into its shadow with a quick, “Be right back.” A scant ten minutes later he emerged again, a heaping cup of ice cream in hand with two little spoons they may or may not use. When he took his seat this time, he was essentially pressed to Fuuma’s side per their ice cream sharing custom, the frozen treat held between them. “You’ll forgive me if I’ve already had the first lick…”    


“My dear Boogeyman,” Fuuma cooed, settling his arm around the back of the bench and over the Nightmare King’s far shoulder, “have I ever cared?” And then he took the second lick, humming his approval of the mixed spices that never got old, no matter how many years he spent on this planet, “So you mentioned the frost spirit. Does this mean the Guardians suddenly condone your behavior?”

Pitch was mid-lick when he hummed, amused, at the nature spirit’s question. The mention of Jack these days was an easy way to put an actual smile on his currently cold, sweet lips. “The Guardians barely condone  _ his  _ behavior, let alone mine. Jack makes his own rules about Guardianship. Who am I to question it?”

Fuuma laughed, “I’ve always liked him. His blizzards… works of art.” This time when he leaned in, he swirled his tongue in a lazy pattern all the way from the cup edge to the tip of the ice cream, “So I take it they don’t condone his spending time with you either, then.”

“Not a bit. They’ve already tried to give him A Talking To,” Pitch elaborated when he met Fuuma at the tip, their faces scandalously close as they conversed like normal, “He is a rebellious little brat. I think it only makes him want to spend  _ more  _ time with me.” 

“Sounds perfect,” Fuuma approved, playfully bumping the end of his nose against Pitch’s, “So have you had your  _ wicked way  _ with  _ him,  _ yet?”

Pitch had to concede that was well played. His gaze lowered and he went in for another little lick so he didn’t have to answer that right away. The answer itself was easy, but the emotions attached to it… 

Yes, he was attracted to Jack. Yes, he’d thought about just how  _ wicked  _ he’d like to be with him but… That simply wasn’t the nature of their relationship. The Guardian of Fun liked to play and they both enjoyed having the company. He had no reason to believe it went anywhere beyond that. 

“What makes you think  _ that’s _ where it’s headed, hm?” 

Fuuma smirked, “The fact that you had to consider your answer, just now.” Although that was a lie, it made a good point. He took another tiny lick, “It’s a rare spirit that makes  _ you  _ light up like this. You haven’t been so excited about something that wasn’t a plan for darkness and destruction since longer than I care to remember.”

“Oh what are you talking about, Fuuma,” Pitch played it off, leaning in to touch his forehead to the other spirit’s so he wouldn’t have to think about how obvious he must have looked if Fuuma caught on after such a brief discussion. “I always light up for  _ you _ .” 

“You  _ do,”  _ Fuuma cooed, tilting against Pitch but never leaning away, “But I’m sure your ears don’t perk up when people say my name the way they just did when I asked about  _ Jack Frost.”  _

Mother Nature pressed forward then, sliding from Pitch’s forehead down to his broad shoulder, where he scooped a bit of ice cream onto a finger and sucked it back off, “It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone. I don’t get involved in those kind of things. You know my thoughts are consumed by Kamui. But I would be happy for you, my lovely Pitch Black, if there was someone to consume  _ your  _ thoughts.”

“Ugh,” the idea was almost too much to handle for the Nightmare King right now, and the ice cream seemed to be doing nothing to cool his head, even after another lick around the rim of the cup, “ _ Should  _ that be the case, you can be damn sure I won’t be dragging out the courtship process like  _ you  _ are, Fuuma darling.”

Fuuma merely smiled, “Not everyone can be as patient as I am for the inevitable.”

And then what sounded like a bag full of cats fell into the tree beside their bench before pouring out onto the grass and concrete below.

Mother Nature peeked at it over Pitch’s shoulder.

“Speak of the devil…”

“What the hell was  _ that,  _ Wind?!” Jack Frost yelled into the sky, “I did not ask to know what it felt like to be a rocket propelled grenade, thank you very much!”

Pitch attempted to look as well, but it only really ended up with his head further tilted against Fuuma’s. Where he was sure the Earth spirit could practically  _ feel  _ his ears perk again, curse his luck. There wasn’t much he could do about the smile either, “You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you.” 

“It wasn’t  _ me!”  _ Jack cried, spinning to face the man he had  _ kindly  _ asked the wind to take him to, not with the intention to be thrown at him across the country like a fucking rag doll. He stopped short when he saw the position the Boogeyman was in, “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?” And why did the sight make him so  _ sad?  _

“Nothing at all,” Fuuma purred, lifting his hand to wrap around Pitch’s fingers and lift the cup higher, “Ice cream?”

“It’s Pumpkin Spice,” Pitch explained, his free arm extended out welcomingly to the youngest spirit of the group, “Another reason why my holiday trumps all.” 

“Isn’t Pumpkin Spice a Thanksgiving thing?” Jack wondered aloud, but he walked forward anyway, circling around to the front of the bench and standing before the two of them. He was inclined to believe their words, but… He looked them up and down, how they were tangled so intimately, pressed together like lovers, and… Something icy and dreadful was creeping over his chest, “You call this nothing?”

Pitch brought his hand back in so he could gesture airily with it, “Nothing more than sharing some ice cream with Mother Nature. Have you met him before?” 

Jack, under normal circumstances, would have been amused at how flamboyant that hand was being, “...Mother Nature is a dude?”

“Complete with a penis, yes,” Fuuma answered readily, smiling like the frost spirit was the sweetest sight his eyes had ever seen, “He hasn’t.  _ Hello, Jack Frost.”  _

Jack wasn’t sure what it meant that he wished he was getting that look from Pitch, but he assumed it was because he  _ liked  _ Pitch’s creepy, and a stranger’s creepy was less… comforting, and oh God, creepy had become comforting. 

The words were out of his mouth before he could analyze them for rudeness, “Please don’t prove your anatomy to me.” 

Mother Nature chuckled like Jack had said a precious joke, “I don’t feel like being arrested for public indecency today.”

Pitch’s chuckle echoed Fuuma’s in near perfect harmony. Even if the joke wasn’t precious,  _ Jack _ was, although he didn’t seem quite as ...bright and cheeky as usual. He brought his and Fuuma’s hands back to his lap and offered Jack a little spoonful instead, confident the taste would perk him up a bit. “What brings you here, Jack?”

“Looking for you, as usual,” The Guardian answered on auto-pilot, staring at the spoonful of ice cream like he wasn’t sure it was real. And he kind of wasn’t.  _ Was  _ this real? “Are you trying to spoon feed me?”

Fuck, and Fuuma was in the perfect spot to listen to the way Pitch’s heart sped up when Jack said that too. This was  _ embarrassing _ , and it was all because Fuuma had to ask that damn question. Otherwise it would have been fine and he’d wander off with the winter spirit  _ as usual.  _

It was a good thing he had such a rock solid poker face. “Unless you’d prefer a  _ lick _ ?” 

...Jack’s cock fucking  _ twitched  _ when Pitch said that word and Jack was  _ sure  _ that was a bad sign, at least in public it was. When the object of said  _ affections  _ was wrapped around somebody else, it was. Although they had insisted it was nothing and Pitch had never mentioned Mother Nature before and the frost spirit figured he might have said  _ something  _ all of those times they were cuddled up in his bed if he’d been in a relationship somewhere. 

So he shook it off and stepped forward, leaning in to wrap his lips around the utensil and suck the ice cream off the end of the spoon. It  _ was  _ delicious. Cinnamon and allspice and that tasted like nutmeg on his tongue… The ice cream wasn’t any colder than Jack was, so all he felt was the creamy, crystalline texture that failed to properly melt in his mouth. He was a pretty big fan of ice cream.

“I like it,” he confessed, as smoothly as he could, then glanced between the two, “So how long have you known each other?”

...Pitch’s stare may have been fixated a bit longer than appropriate on Jack’s mouth. He wondered how cool those lips might feel against his own, or how chilled his tongue would be… 

And then proceeded to thoroughly curse out the spirit of the Earth in his mind because _fuck_ , this hadn’t been so much of a problem  _ before.  _

Pitch swallowed, putting the little spoon back in the cup, and got enough of his wits back to pat the seat next to him. There was no reason for Jack to stand there awkwardly for Pitch’s viewing pleasure. “Centuries. Fuuma and I go quite a long way back.” 

Fuuma eyed the bench where Pitch indicated with distaste. That was too far away, and his dear Boogeyman should know better. If Jack was going to sit on the bench, he deserved to sit between them where he might be surrounded by their touch. It was only proper. 

But the offer had already been made, and Fuuma didn’t like to make a fuss, “We were already old friends before you were born, dear Frostling.”

Jack felt a little weird about it, still like he was interrupting something, but he sat beside Pitch all the same. And that petname didn’t help a thing. This was… a new level of creepy.

And then it got worse.

Fuuma had only let the Guardian settle for a moment before he reached over and grabbed his legs, pulling them up over his and the Nightmare King’s laps, leaving his hand resting heavily on the frost spirit’s ankle and stroking lovingly with his thumb. That was better. If he had to be so far away.

Oh fuck, this was weird. Jack stared at his legs helplessly as they were  _ petted  _ by a complete  _ stranger.  _ What was this? Some weird spirit hazing ritual delayed three hundred years? He didn’t even know what he could say. He did not even. Period.

….Pitch felt a little sorry for Jack.  _ Clearly  _ he hadn’t met Mother Nature before and he looked so terribly uncomfortable. It was a little bit much when  _ he  _ first met Fuuma too, but he easily grew used to that touchy nature after living in isolation for so long. 

And yet something about Fuuma stroking Jack’s ankle, something  _ he  _ hadn’t had the pleasure of touching, made him irrationally agitated. 

But then it was tempered by the fact that he nearly had the wintery imp in his lap and Pitch had a supporting hand at Jack’s back before consciously realizing it at all. He supposed he might as well settle in. There was still half a container of ice cream left. “You’re welcome to shove him off if you want to,” Pitch assured, “It’s what Kamui does.”

Pitch speaking in his ear calmed him down again, and that was when Jack realized the bottoms of his thighs were pressed to Pitch’s legs and… Wow, that was familiar and yet new all at the same time. Remembering that he had cuddled with Pitch tons of times and it was never sexual  _ (yet)  _ returned a little sanity to him. Pitch wasn’t any less touchy than Fuuma was being, so maybe Jack could get used to it in the same way, even if he was pondering letting Pitch do more and absolutely would not let Fuuma.

He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure Pitch would stop anything Jack didn’t like if he made his wishes known.

So he went in for a little more familiarity, leaning against the Boogeyman’s side and leeching comfort from it. The Guardian shook his head, “Nah, I’m okay. But Kamui does seem like the type for that.”

Funny how when Jack said that, he wasn’t even paying attention to Fuuma. 

Pitch was having a hard time paying any attention to Fuuma either with Jack against his side, looking far more at ease than he had moments ago. The Boogeyman was smiling down fondly at him, and he slipped his hand further across Jack’s back until he curled it around the spirit’s waist, grip firm and bordering on possessive if he dared to think of it that way. 

The Nightmare King had never been surrounded by so much  _ affection  _ before, at least not from other spirits. Fuuma was warm at his right side and Jack cool at his left. It was an interesting contrast and maybe the three of them needed to have ice cream together more often. 

Speaking of, Pitch was far overdue for another lick, so he went for it, and then held the cup out for Jack, “Unlike you and I, Kamui  _ likes  _ being alone. He’s spoiled like Fuuma, here.  _ Everyone  _ believes in them.” 

Jack thought this was a little weird too, but… Whatever, it was ice cream. He licked. 

And then he studied Fuuma, Mother Nature. He didn’t look very natural, although Jack wondered what it was he thought he should be seeing. After all, Jack Frost ran around in a poly-blend hoodie. What should Mother Nature wear? Animal pelts and leafy loin cloths? 

Thinking that way, the dark and subtle… was that leather, or reptile skin or maybe Jack didn’t want to know, with modern fashion belts and clasps and boots actually made a ton of sense. Still. He looked more manufactured than  _ natural  _ and so at ease in the human world, on concrete and metal and wood benches, like that was where nature belonged.

“I never would have guessed you were a spirit, let alone Mother Nature.”

Fuuma smiled like that was a compliment. It almost was. He was sure Jack didn’t mean it that way, but Mother Nature prided himself on belonging anywhere on earth. “Since everyone believes, and everyone can see me, I do have to  _ try  _ not to stand out so much. Or else I would never get any peace.”

As keeper of the ice cream, Pitch brought the cup back to the middle where everyone could reach, settling back into his position now that everyone seemed calm again, “That or live the life of an elaborately dressed hermit on a mountain.”

Fuuma scowled, but it really just looked like an upset pout, “He is too beautiful to share with the world.”

And the creepy factor just upped itself again. Jack had more ice cream. 

Suddenly, the pout dissipated and Mother Nature shrugged, “I like people too much to live in solitude. Too much quiet and nothing ever changing is boring. The world is exciting. I like it.”

Jack’s brows furrowed in confusion, “But I thought the earth moved really slow?”

Mother Nature looked honestly surprised, “Does it?”

...And Jack looked honestly awkward. Shouldn’t  _ he  _ know? Fuck, Mother Nature was weird.

Which meant Pitch had to come to the rescue. There weren’t many who knew how to properly handle all the  _ quirks  _ of Mother Nature. Even Pitch still got tripped up sometimes. “It could move slower. It’s entirely too depressing to think that Halloween is only a  _ single night _ .” 

“So is Christmas. So is Easter.” Fuuma slipped down on the Boogeyman’s chest to lick a long line over the ice cream. “Are you saying you wish you were more like the Sandman?”

Jack tilted his head onto Pitch’s other shoulder, “Sandy doesn’t have a holiday.”

Fuuma blinked mildly at the Guardian, “I was making fun of him, Frostling.”

“Oh,” Jack nodded, “Carry on, then.”

But Pitch wasn’t looking very offended, just wistful with a touch of melancholy thinking of so many years of planning gone to waste, “I almost had that power. I was so close…” 

The Guardian practically in his lap nudged him in the ribs, “Hey, don’t be a sore loser. I kicked your ass fair and square.”

Pitch reacted by digging his fingers a little harder into Jack’s side, “I’m allowed to lament about how close I was. Besides…” he took a quick lick of ice cream before he muttered, “Four against one is  _ hardly  _ fair…" 

“All’s fair in love and war, right?” Jack spared a couple seconds to think about how much he liked Pitch’s fingers digging in like that. It was kind of hard to carry on a normal conversation when his mind wanted to explore this new fascination of his. “But I’ll give it to you that taking down Tooth first  _ was  _ pretty clever, now that I understand it all better. It’s just too bad that Jamie’s such a strong believer and I’m so good with kids, huh?”

“Little brat,” Pitch grumbled, turning to eye Jack so comfortably nested against him. ...Not that he could in all honesty say he minded  _ at all.  _ “ _ Both  _ of you.” 

Jack was good at this game. He leaned pathetically into Pitch, looking up at him with wide, pleading, innocent eyes. He made sure to keep his hands close and keep his knees together and look as small and innocuous as possible as he blinked up at the large and looming Boogeyman. He wasn’t a brat. Nobody  _ this  _ adorable was a brat. 

….Jack was totally a damn brat. A crafty, mischievous, snarky little brat that was trying to destroy Pitch’s every angry braincell with an overdose of  _ cute.  _ Curse those fucking gorgeous blue eyes... 

And he absolutely knew Jack was playing him too. Pitch was positive his glare wasn’t anywhere near convincing but he stuck behind it anyway. “Th-that trick isn’t going to work on  _ me _ , Frost.” 

Jack smiled, and he had to work hard to keep it innocent and bright instead of the shameless grin he felt inside, “Yeah, it is.”

“Well, fuck,” Fuuma stated from Pitch’s other side, staring almost dumbfounded at Jack’s clever manipulation of expression, “It’s working on  _ me.”  _

“Hush, you’re not helping,” Pitch shoved the ice cream towards Fuuma so he would  _ stop  _ being affected by Jack because he only liked it when  _ he  _ was affected by Jack.  

“I still maintain that you’re a brat,” the Boogeyman returned his attention to the snowy imp with the heart-melting smile, “I didn’t say you weren’t an adorable brat.”

Jack had to take a couple seconds to just breathe in order to maintain his facade. It was hard not breaking out into snickers or smirking up at the distracted Boogeyman. Acting through laughter was always the worst. 

But when he had himself under control, he turned sheepish, ducking his head a little and looking up with excited,  _ hopeful  _ eyes, “You think I’m cute?”

That… just made Pitch grip at the young spirit even harder, scowling at him darkly. Jack shouldn’t have been able to play him for this long,  _ and yet _ … “Don’t fuck with me, Frost.”

He couldn’t hold back the chuckle, but Jack  _ could  _ turn it into more of a giggle when he shrugged one shoulder bashfully and dared, “I think you like it when I fuck with you.”

Fuuma was  _ utterly _ unhelpful, “Huh. Well, he’s got you pegged.”

Pitch had to wonder at himself for the sort of company he collected. And let crawl all over him in both the figurative and literal sense. With a roll of his eyes, he finally released his increasingly violent grip from Jack and locked his gaze onto the one thing that  _ wasn’t  _ mocking him- the ice cream. 

“Laugh it up now. Just remember who the King of  _ Nightmares  _ is when you go to sleep tonight.”

With the eye contact gone, Jack allowed his head to fall against Pitch’s shoulder in a much more natural way. That was almost an empty threat. He knew he could have nightmares, yes, and they could be awful, yes, but they were just dreams, and Pitch was allowed to snack on his fear if it kept him out of greater trouble. The truly important thing was, “You won’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” Pitch promised, sounding entirely too casual for it. But there was no other way he could answer- Pitch Black did not want to see Jack Frost hurt.  _ Ever.  _ “I find it far more satisfying to out-prank you.” 

The grin Jack had suppressed before was back with a vengeance. That was exactly the kind of thing Jack liked to hear. “I  _ dare  _ you, Boogeyman.”

Pitch only barely concealed his smug little smirk with another long lick of ice cream, “In due time, Jackie Boy.” 

Jack had not realized it until that moment, but the ice cream, and Pitch’s tongue dragging over it, was literally right in front of his face. He had a front row seat to the way that smooth muscle maneuvered its way through the slowly melting cream, curling just enough to scoop at the edges and ohfuck, being eighteen forever came with some unique personal challenges. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t a bright, robust blush or anything. Just an interested tint to his cheeks that Jack could blame on being a really fucking good actor earlier. A tint he would  _ not  _ blame on giving in to the urge to lean forward and skirt the edges of the groove Pitch had just left with his own tongue, feeling giddy and light with the stupidly childish sensation of something as inane as an  _ indirect kiss.  _ It was dumb. It was a thing of rom coms and pre-teen novels. He felt it anyway. And he liked it.

He also felt ridiculous. “So Fuuma,” Jack was quick to say, eager to take attention away from what he had just done, the way he licked his lips and absolutely imagined that he could taste Pitch on them (He  _ could  _ taste like Pumpkin Spice. It was possible.), “what do you actually  _ do?”  _

Continuing with his theme, Fuuma was unhelpful. He offered the frost spirit an amused smile and answered, “I don’t think you actually care.”

Pitch sure didn’t. His eyes were  _ intently  _ back on Jack, watching that mouth work, wondering if he was only imagining that Jack had retraced the path he’d just taken with his own tongue. It was something so miniscule, it shouldn’t have meant anything, but there was almost a ...sensuality to it. 

Fuck he was in trouble if he was reading into licking  _ ice cream.  _ Pitch’d probably been in trouble since the day Jack decided to follow Kamui into his lair. 

But what was a little trouble for the Boogeyman and Jack Frost anyway? Pitch pushed his luck and tilted his head down for another lick that outlined the latest impression of Jack’s tongue. To test his theory of course. “Earthquakes mostly.”

Jack was just staring at the ice cream now. That didn’t mean anything. That  _ couldn’t  _ have meant anything. Because if it did, then that meant Pitch knew what he was up to and that was too embarrassing to contemplate. 

Also, his cock was beginning to pick up on his interest. He really needed to stop. 

“Earthquakes?” He asked, tone faintly distracted with his thoughts racing past, “But I thought Mother Nature was all growing trees and flourishing lakes?”

Fuuma went in for a robust lick on his side of the ice cream. He needed to get in there if he wanted any at all, with the way those two were competing for sexiest cream lick. Damn. 

“I am everything, all of it,” He briefly explained, “but I don’t have to think about it for trees to grow. Earthquakes are more interesting. More destructive.”

It was a good thing that there was conversation to focus on. Dragged out any longer, Pitch was likely to take his tongue directly to Jack’s skin. The spirit just looked so  _ irresistible  _ with that faint blue color on his cheeks, and he would have loved to know what Jack was thinking about to make it that way. Gods, it’d been way too long since he last felt the slow burn of  _ desire  _ in his veins. Of course it couldn’t have come at a less opportune time, with  _ Fuuma  _ on top of him. 

He accepted the licking game was over. That didn’t mean he couldn’t idly run his fingertips up and down the side of Jack’s hip while he was trying to get a read on his old friend. 

Jack found he could not be properly worried about the words Fuuma just said when there were fingers tickling his side, and they  _ were  _ worrying words, “Destructive? Why would that be a  _ good  _ thing? I mean, for Mother Nature.” He desperately hoped his voice sounded less shaky than it felt. 

Fuuma tilted his head back over Pitch’s shoulder, closing his eyes to feel Kamui’s waning light on his face, “Some things on earth are intended to be eternal. Many last very long times. Most of it, though? Most of it is destined to die in fire, crumble back to dust, fall and begin again. Nature is a work of fatalistic inevitability. The destruction of such temporary fixtures is nothing but beautiful. Creation must be born from something.”

Which was exactly why Pitch got along with Fuuma so much better than the  _ Guardians  _ did. He was glad that Jack hadn’t fallen into their narrow and naive view of the world. “Fuuma is as much about balance as Kamui is, he’s just less subtle about it.” 

Yeah, there was nothing subtle about that little monologue just then. It was making sense why Pitch and Fuuma were so chummy, though. It sounded like Fuuma would have thought Pitch’s grand plan to make everyone’s lives miserable was very creative, thus a worthy goal. Maybe that was simplifying it too much, but Jack couldn’t totally understand. Everyone liked explosions, but Jack couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that explosions were necessary for things to go on. 

It might have been something he was too young as a spirit to get, yet. Or Fuuma was crazy. That was possible. 

“Couldn’t  _ you  _ create, though?” He finally asked, “I mean, why do you  _ mostly  _ destroy?”

“I do create,” Fuuma answered softly, as though the words were thoroughly unimportant next to everything else, “but why should I create anything when I have so many little creatures scurrying along my surface creating for me? I give them resources and they create everything. They take too many resources and create too much. They don’t need me to create. They need me to remind them that they are mine, that they are temporary.” Finally, Mother Nature lifted his head to meet Jack’s gaze, “Otherwise they forget.”

There was exactly zero uncertainty in Jack’s mind about why Mother Nature was not a Guardian. In hindsight, it was foolish to assume a spirit some four billion years old would give a shit about humans who only just sprung up out of nowhere. 

Which made his friendship with Pitch make even more sense. Pitch fed off of human’s fears. If Fuuma liked the idea of humans being reminded of how fragile they were, why would he ever have a problem with them being terrified every night? He would fucking  _ embrace  _ that. In fact, what was becoming clear was how individualized and isolated the Guardians’ jobs actually were. Jack loved what he did, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, but he could admit that protecting the joy of children was a pretty specific task next to guiding the rise and fall of whole societies throughout the ages.    
  
In the end, that made even his  _ youth  _ make sense. The world didn’t need him until now. Fuck, that was existential. 

Jack’s auto-pilot switched on and he found himself saying numbly, “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Talking to Mother Nature will do that to you,” Pitch assured, though he wasn’t sure if it would be comforting at all. Jack was still so young, still trying to understand his place in the world, and conversing with spirits like Fuuma or Kamui could easily make one feel insignificant. 

On the other hand, Jack was very secure in his center. Wasn’t it enough that he was able to bring  _ fun  _ to so many children all over the world? 

Or even, to the Nightmare King himself? 

Pitch offered the frostling a little smile, relocating his hand to that white hair he was so fond of stroking, “But don’t think too hard. Where would the fun be in  _ that _ ?” 

“Some people find thinking fun,” Jack murmured, lulled by the comforting tingle of those long fingers against his sensitive skin, “I don’t really understand those people, but I can still feel it, you know? When they have fun thinking hard.”

“Mm. Humans are such strange creatures. Sometimes they fear the most random things,” Pitch mused, fingers carding through unruly white strands, “But it isn’t as though any of  _ us _ are normal either.” 

Jack smiled. It was true. The spirits were all very unique. Nothing normal about them. What Jack was doing, his job in this world, had never been done before. There were no guidelines, no instruction manual, no true wrong or right answers. He had to feel his way through it and learn the same way he was sure Cupid had to figure out matchmaking so long ago. 

Three hundred years was nothing to the two spirits he was sitting with now. That didn’t make his time alone any easier to bear, but it gave him hope that one day, his time alone would be so long ago that it didn’t sting quite the way it did now. And if he could do the same for Pitch, then he wanted to. They didn’t have to be alone, anymore. Not so long as they didn’t want to be. 

With a wry smile, the Guardian stated, “I’m glad we had this talk.”

Pitch chuckled, agreeing with the sentiment. Truthfully,  _ he  _ had much to think about as well, but it had less to do about his place in the world and more about the place Jack was trying to occupy in Pitch’s life. Altogether not an unpleasant topic to have on his mind, especially after all the behavior he just witnessed. 

Maybe Fuuma deserved a little credit for planting the seed further in his head, no pun intended. “Hear that Fuuma? He likes having ice cream with us.”

_ “Good,”  _ Mother Nature purred, reaching over to pet Jack’s hand wrapped around his staff before leaving his hand resting on the frost spirit’s knee. Ice cream was a sacred ritual ever since it had been  _ created,  _ and Fuuma loved to share. And he liked Jack. Ever since  _ Jack  _ had been created. He was a wonderful new addition to this world, and Fuuma was glad that he was intended to be eternal. 

Dear God, Mother Nature was creepy. And it didn’t do  _ anything  _ for Jack the way it did when Pitch was creepy, but then, Pitch was creepy in a weirdly charmingly cute way, and Fuuma was just…  _ just  _ creepy. 

And he was warm. Fuuma’s hand was sinking heat through Jack’s pants and into his skin. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it didn’t feel  _ nice  _ either. Jack wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he quite enjoyed Pitch’s very neutral body temperature. 

So much to think about.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed belatedly, “I’d do this again, sometime. Sure.”

It was well into the night when the last of the ice cream had been consumed. Even mostly melted, Pitch would not give up his favorite flavor and he’d consequently been nominated to finish off the rest of their stolen treat. 

The taste of spiced sweetness on his tongue put him in a remarkably good mood, not that he wasn’t already in a good mood with  _ Jack  _ at his side, but he’d basked enough to regret that the moment had to come to an end and the cup was undoubtedly empty. 

With a parting nuzzle and a hand he brushed down the side of Fuuma’s face, Pitch bid his friend a farewell and good luck. Another promise was made to do this again soon before they’d have to wait another year for pumpkin spice to be around. 

And then he promptly pulled Jack to his chest where he could drag the boy back to the shadows with him, ignoring the way he stammered and squawked until they were gone like they’d never been there at all. 

A good end to a good night. 

 

* * *

  
  


Mother Nature was very careful. No one understood Kamui’s habits better than he who had been with him from the beginning. Kamui needed it to remain dark, so Fuuma had lifted the curtains only as long as it took to slip inside, and left them only the barest crack apart once he was settled.

The light filtered in from behind him, so that his shadow fell across Kamui’s face. Several minutes of darkness stood between him and when his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, when that barest crack was finally enough for Fuuma to see the outline of the Candle Yin’s face and hair. 

He loved this dragon.

The earth spirit slid along the sheets as close as he dared, which was so close he would only need to lean to press their bodies together. He wanted to feel Kamui’s light, the gentle heat he radiated just by being what he was, and the desire was almost strong enough that Fuuma thought he might wake him, to see that dazzling gold eye open and bathe him in brilliance, but this close, he could feel it through the dragon’s skin, and Kamui so deserved his sleep.

He was beautiful, so beautiful. Fuuma could be patient, could wait for Yin to wake all on his own, could wait for those eyes to open and the light to blind him, if in the meantime he could watch him sleep. His hair was so soft, so dark, his skin, so soft, so pale. Fuuma  _ ached  _ to feel it all against his fingertips. 

And more, if Yin might let him.

Mother Nature smiled, resting his head against Kamui’s pillow, breathing in the air that Kamui breathed out, soaking up everything about the lonesome dragon that he could while touch was forbidden to him. So beautiful. His air tasted fresh, sweet, full of light, and Fuuma sighed, drunk on proximity.

He loved this dragon.

This dragon, however, was a  _ painfully  _ sensitive sleeper when it came to the power he governed over. As a keeper of the light, Kamui needed absolute darkness to feel like he could lay his head down to rest for any amount of time. Normally, once he was out he was  _ out  _ until he was ready to take away the night again. But even just that fraction of light Fuuma had allowed into his closed off sanctuary had the dragon stirring slightly. 

Kamui’s head rolled from one side to the other, consciousness beginning to return when he detected an unfamiliar heat next to him. 

Only under special,  _ specific  _ circumstances was there allowed to be extra heat next to him. 

When the Candle Dragon peered a single eye open, it was his violet one, barely visible under dark, thick lashes, but enough for him to analyze the shadow that was with him. 

He instantly had a hand lashed out, squeezing around Fuuma’s throat. “What do you think you’re doing here?” the dragon asked in a warning whisper.

It said many things about the length of their acquaintance that Mother Nature was utterly unconcerned about the grip on his neck. It said many more things that the grip wasn’t tight enough to keep him from speaking, “I heard you’ve been having some hard months lately. I thought I might offer to undo some of that damage.”

Kamui groaned, his fingernails grazing down the length of Fuuma’s neck as he squirmed against the sheets and stretched out his legs, “S’what  _ sleeping  _ is for…” 

Fuuma casually reached behind him and pushed the curtain that last little bit closed, even as he shivered from the effect of those nails, “Then go back to sleep. I can wait, when it’s  _ for you.”  _

Kamui soon gave up on the threat, as if the dark calmed him down, and dropped his hand so he could partially obscure his mouth when he yawned, followed by another little groan, “And what do you plan to do to me while I’m sleeping?”

“Well I  _ was  _ watching,” the earth spirit said at length, fingers drawing random patterns on the pillow between them, “but now I can’t, so I guess I’ll just listen and feel, instead.”

Kamui slowly opened both of his eyes to look at the Earth’s spirit, his golden one casting a soft, candle-like glow over the enclosed space so he could regard the other somewhere between apathetically curious and skeptical. “Pitch told you,” he stated more than accused.

“We were trading advice,” Mother Nature confirmed with a happy little smile, pleased to be bathed in that gorgeous glow. He could gaze into Kamui’s eyes forever. “Did you know he’s grown fond of Jack Frost?”

“Cold and dark…” Kamui mused, considering the combination with his same blank curiosity. He never got involved in the personal affairs of  _ anyone.  _ Only Fuuma, since he  _ forced  _ his personal affairs on the dragon for longer than he could remember. Pitch and Jack, though... He accepted that reality. Even better if the Boogeyman had an accomplice to help him stay active. “Frost was already stalking him when I showed up.” 

“Fear and fun,” Fuuma recited in a musical tone, fingers doing a little twirl over the covers, “I think you would have found them interesting, when Pitch threatened nightmares. Jack is not afraid of being afraid. They’re  _ fascinating.”  _

Kamui didn’t look phased by these facts. Maybe they  _ were  _ interesting, but the Candle Yin saw no appeal in observing mortals  _ or  _ spirits. It was simply not his business. 

Instead he rolled over on his side, facing Fuuma and reached to take off those little sunglasses so he could better read his eyes, “What advice did  _ you  _ need?” 

“To stop waiting and come see you,” Mother Nature supplied, not moving a muscle when Kamui reached for his face, “Obviously.”

“Hn…” Kamui wasn’t sure he cared for other spirits meddling in  _ his  _ affairs either, but… 

Somehow he didn’t have it in him to violently chase Fuuma out of his bed this time. It  _ had  _ been a taxing six months, and sure, he’d gone without Pitch’s help for longer in the past, but that was  _ millions  _ of years ago and the Candle Yin had grown a bit too comfortable with his lightened workload.

  
It had also been quite some time since he was this close to the other spirit. Memories of intense, heated nights with naked flesh and mind-blanking pleasure were simmering to the surface that made Kamui stay in position, only moving to toss the sunglasses to the unoccupied section of his large bed. “Well. Here I am.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus art of our favorite sassy dragon~
> 
> http://bunnimew.tumblr.com/post/138678836346/one-of-his-eyes-represented-the-sun-the-other
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments!


	3. Welcome to Your Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack teaches Pitch how to cook. Pitch teaches Jack how to Halloween.

It was officially less than a week until Halloween night. Jack and Pitch found themselves in the company of Paul Bunyan and the Blue Fairy once again. The lumberjack had set up an impressive fire pit complete with dry logs for seating all around, but only two of the logs were occupied, all four of them clustered to one side around the stash of hot dogs, bread, bacon, marshmallows of course, and more. Jack had carefully instructed Pitch in the proper way to roast things over the fire and then Suzaku had helpfully corrected him, as the resident camper of the mix.

But watching things cook on sticks was only so much fun, especially with Pitch purposefully sabotaging Jack’s every attempt to help him make a s’more _correctly,_ and the talk around the campfire quickly turned from small talk to Halloween to ghosts and ghouls and _stories._

Suzaku was clearly practiced at fireside storytelling as well, coming up with many creepy stories that he swore, _absolutely swore,_ were actually true, and given that he was Paul Bunyan, Jack almost really believed him.

The Blue Fairy spun fantastical stories unlike anyone Jack had ever heard, except they were _totally not_ ghost stories. Well, they had ghosts in them, and the ghosts did participate in the plots, but they were _much_ closer to fairy tales and scared no one. Which might have mattered more if anybody noticed that they weren’t scared while caught up in the tales themselves. It was only once they were told that they all realized the point had been missed.

Pitch was _master_ of the campfire ghost story. Jack had never heard any of his stories before, which made the frost spirit think the Boogeyman was _actually honestly_ making them up as he went along, right off the top of his head, complete with sound effects and ancient languages and archaic symbology and historical tie-ins and Jack almost couldn’t handle it. It did not help that Burgess was involved more than once and Jack was properly freaking out about it.

He didn’t believe they were true, but that had no bearing on whether or not Jack would be checking over his shoulder the next time he was in that founder’s park after dark.

And _Jack…_ Jack thought he was alright, if he said so himself. He was mostly rehashing the stories he had heard kids tell each other over the years, but he figured that was fine as long as they were unpredictable and _good._ So what if he was jumping out at his friends at least once per story for the cheap scare? It was still a scare and as long as they could laugh about it, he was gold.

It was his turn, and Jack was slowly coaxing Lelouch closer and closer to him for one of those cheap scares, “Mark had _told_ Cindy not to go. He warned her, like, a _million_ times, but Cindy just wasn’t the type of girl to let someone hold her back like that. Fearless, you know?” Pitch was paying attention, but more to his latest marshmallow on a stick and Suzaku was leaned in, but smiling that little amused smile of his that let Jack know he was just waiting for Lelouch to jump right back into him.

“But she started to wish she had listened to him. It was _so dark_ in that house, and the weirdest thing was that she could see the floor just before her feet, but not five feet down the hall, and it didn’t matter how many steps she took, it was _always_ light around her feet and dark down the hall. And then she noticed the light on the floor had a ring to it, you know how those old flash lights used to have those imperfect dark rings in their light? That was when she realized, she had been so focused ahead of her down the hall, that she had never thought to look… _OhmyGod,_ Pitch, that was a _perfectly_ roasted marshmallow until you set it on fire.”

Seconds away from his scare and the Nightmare King just _had_ to ruin it with his terrible cooking skills. It wasn’t like Jack could leave that level of failure _alone._

Pitch looked like the smug asshole he was often accused of being. He brought the thoroughly blackened confection back out of the fire and observed his handiwork like he’d actually accomplished something great. “But Jack, it burns so pretty…”

And with that the spell was broken. Lelouch leaned back into Suzaku with the mood shattered, chuckling helplessly at the Boogeyman and the teenager trying to help him recover some semblance of a childhood. “At this point, I think he does just like the taste of them charred.”

Jack glared at the marshmallow and the stupid delicate way Pitch removed it from the stick. Those fingers were too fucking long. Jack shouldn’t have been as fond of them as he was. The frost spirit grumbled, “That’s because he hasn’t had one that _wasn’t,_ yet.”

Pitch was just about to pop the bittersweet treat in his mouth but paused to to give Jack a suggestive leer, “Are you going to feed me one?”

_Normally_ Jack would have said, ‘Fuck you, feed yourself,’ especially with all that implication in the air, but… But they were out here to give Pitch new experiences and Jack enjoyed perfectly roasting marshmallows, so he grabbed for the food stash, _“Yes.”_

Suzaku laughed, “I never thought I’d meet someone who took their campfires more seriously than I do.”

“It’s not the campfire,” Jack shook his head, even as he grabbed a thin slice of pineapple to skewer with two marshmallows. Two s’mores in one. Jack was an impatient spirit, “It’s childhood. I take childhood _very_ seriously.”

“We’re remaining blissfully unaware of how old I actually am,” Pitch commented wryly before placing the marshmallow on his tongue, and trying not to seem too _eager_ at the idea of Jack feeding him. Although, the frost spirit was probably just going to shove it or throw it at him instead of something… more refined. _Romantic._ Because why would Jack be considering romance amidst any of this?

Lelouch made a little disappointed noise and laid his head down on Suzaku’s shoulder, smirking, “I guess I’ll never know what happened to Mark and Cindy…”

There was a broad smile on Suzaku’s lips, “He was just going to scream in your face, you know.”

...This time Lelouch’s disappointment was real. “Oh. Jack, we need to work on your story telling…”

The Guardian of Fun was unapologetic, “They’ll be fine. Mark was behind Cindy; he followed her in. There was nothing else in the house.”

The way Lelouch’s face fell made Pitch throw his head back with a laugh. Oh, that was classic Jack. Awful at evoking any _true_ fear, but always entertaining. When the Boogeyman recovered, it was time to take his sinister look to the Blue Fairy. “If you want, _I_ can finish the story…”

“ _No_ ,” Lelouch even had a dramatic finger out, waving at him vehemently, “Fuck no. It’s bad enough I’m going to hear that awful _noise_ in my sleep tonight.”

Pitch’s grin was diabolical, “I guess I’ll be fed well all around.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about sitting so close to someone who can _sound_ like that...” Jack muttered, turning his marshmallows with a measured rotation over a nice and hot area of the fire.

“Did we all forget what it is that keeps me _alive_ ?” Pitch made no excuses for being the _King of Nightmares._

“I never said you shouldn’t be scary!” Jack defended, waving and gesturing with his free hand, “I’m saying, what the fuck is wrong with your _throat_ that it can make _noises like that?”_

“What, like this?” Pitch promptly dropped his jaw, and let forth that same low, guttural, _haunting_ noise that had no Earthly place on this dimension.

“Oh _Gods_ make him stop!” Lelouch’s hands shot up to his ears. Suzaku’s immediately followed them, sacrificing his own ears to the sound.

_“No!”_ Jack bravely cried, closing the foot or so distance between them in an instant by wrapping his arm around the back of Pitch’s neck and _covering_ the Boogeyman’s mouth tightly with his hand. He waved the stick in his other hand threateningly, “I will stab you with my pineapple-marshmallowy skewer, I swear!”

It was muffled, but there was an obvious hiccup in Pitch’s audible torture when he laughed at the idle threat. Or very real threat- this was Jack after all.

...Jack who was now pressed up against his side and that was almost more distracting than the hot, pointy stick aimed at him. Pitch tried to say something but it was indistinguishable with the grip on his jaw, so that left him trying to communicate with his eyes. That were anything but apologetic.

Jack’s were flat as he stared back at the Nightmare King, but eventually his desire for pineapple s’more was greater than the current threat, and the marshmallows ended up back over the fire. His hand stayed in place, though. “Here’s another aspect of childhood for you, Pitch,” the frost spirit commented mildly, eyes back on his roasting dessert, “It’s called, ‘Time Out.’”

That was cute, but one didn’t just send the Boogeyman to ‘Time Out’. Pitch rolled his metallic eyes and pulled a childlike stunt of his own.

He licked Jack’s palm.

The Guardian’s head snapped back to look at Pitch with wide, startled eyes, his skewer freezing where it was over the fire. Did he just?... _Seriously?..._ It didn’t work, Jack’s hand remained steadfastly over the Nightmare King’s lips, but…

  
Okay, maybe Pitch _was_ learning something about being a kid, after all.

Jack laughed and turned back to his skewer, finally deeming both pineapple and marshmallow roasted enough, and removed his hand at his own leisure to grab a couple of graham crackers and a bar of chocolate. “Nice try, Drama King.”

“That was _hardly_ dramatic,” Pitch smirked, right after licking his lips now that he was free. Somehow he’d be _sure_ the boy would have found his tactic _repulsive._ Did it say something that he wasn’t even trying to wipe off his hand? Pitch was probably reading too far into things again. After all, Jack’s priority the whole night had been _the s’more._

Lelouch very hesitantly lifted his joined hands with Suzaku, eyeing Jack and Pitch with scrutiny, “...Is it safe now?”

“Is it ever, with Jack and Pitch?” Suzaku asked wryly, reclaimed hands returning to the food stash for another slice of bacon to cook.

“Hey, we’re not _that_ bad…” It was a bit of a juggling act, holding the skewer between his knees to get the s’mores off one after the other, especially since the second one involved having a s’more in one hand as he did it, but he was successful and the skewer was set aside when Jack offered one of his _perfectly_ roasted marshmallow s’mores with a slice of roasted pineapple to Pitch, “There. Find out what you’re missing.”

Pitch just stared at it, tilting his head this way and that as if he’d never seen one quite so finely crafted and then he turned his devious eyes onto the Guardian. “You said you’d _feed_ me, Jack…”

Lelouch scoffed and began assembling more ingredients for a s’more, because if his teeth were going to _rot_ it was going to be on _his_ terms, “Separately, maybe. _Together?_ You’re incorrigible.”

Jack gave Pitch a flat, disbelieving glare even as he replied to the Blue Fairy, “Incorrigible, I’ll give you. _Unsafe?”_

“Unadulterated fun and unspeakable horror? How does that _not_ sound dangerous?” Lelouch argued.

Pitch made his disappointment obvious with a sigh and took the s’more for himself. Couldn’t blame a shade for trying.

Suzaku tilted his head in question at his lover, “Who said Jack was unadulterated?”

The frost spirit felt like he was being torn in two. His attention was first stolen by Lelouch, then switched to Pitch when he felt the tug on his fingers, then back to the couple across from him and-Fuck-Damn it-Jack couldn’t react fast enough. Things were happening and fuck it all.

He stole the s’more back from Pitch even as he gestured at Suzaku with his own, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” and then he rounded on the Nightmare King, “Alright, fine, but this is eat at your own risk. S’mores are usually an every man for himself kind of deal.”

Pitch _was_ going to say something about being pleased that Jack wasn’t going back on his word, but he stared at the s’more, thought about the _other_ s’mores he’d had, and ended up with, “Oh damn, this _is_ going to get messy…” Did he still want this?

He glanced up at Jack, looked down at the custom-made treat, then Jack again. “I believe the expression is… yolo?” And then the Nightmare King went in for his first gooey, sticky, crumbly bite.

“Oh my fucking God,” Jack exclaimed, staring in mild horror as bits of graham cracker already began to fall and the marshmallow refused to stop stretching, “Did you really just say that? How do you even _know_ that term?” And then he shoved his own s’more into his mouth so he had a free hand to hold under Pitch’s mouth as it all fell apart.

“Oh yeah, all of this,” Suzaku deadpanned from the other side of the fire, “Definitely what childhood was like.”

“I stand by my earlier assessment that they are _both_ still children. Did I tell you about the _spider_?” the Blue Fairy asked dramatically.

Pitch had his mouth too full of sugar and _stuff_ to respond to anything, his own hands getting involved to catch crumbs and contain marshmallow strings. Jack’s expression had _so_ been worth it though.

Unfortunately, Jack’s graham cracker was getting soggy in his mouth and he had to do something fast unless he wanted to lose his own s’more to the ants, so he poured all of Pitch’s crumbs into one hand and brought the other back to do damage control around his own mouth, but he was still getting crumbs all over his hoodie because he couldn’t lean _forward_ without a second hand and…  
  
Shit.  
  
Pitch had fucking _awful_ ideas.

Except when he came up with _better_ ones.

Noticing Jack’s dilemma, Pitch was only too willing to help. He brushed off some crumbs, bit firmly into his own s’more, then reached over to take the younger spirit’s, holding it just as Jack was doing for him. So now they were feeding each other, in a way, and Pitch thought himself a genius.

Lelouch just thought they were idiots. And pretty damn obvious. At least he hadn’t had to step in for that silly wish of the Boogeyman’s.

...Okay, but maybe he did enjoy it when Suzaku fed _him._

Jack was too busy trying to catch a piece of chocolate before it hit the dirt to notice the changed circumstance. He appreciated the extra hand, though. And his s’more making abilities were fucking _epic._ Everything tasted amazing, even as it caused him a whole shit ton of trouble. In true damage control fashion, he attempted to shove the whole damn thing into his mouth as fast as possible so it at least couldn’t _fall_ before he was done with it.

Which did involve his lips pressing into and closing around the pads of Pitch’s fingers but he was too concerned with getting every bit of the pineapple’s juice to properly register that.

And that was when all that genius went and backfired. Damnit.

Not that it was a bad thing Jack had his mouth on Pitch’s fingers, he just… wasn’t expecting it. The s’more was suddenly secondary to the cold he could intimately feel on Jack’s lips.

He really needed to not think about it. Not here. Not now. Not _ever._ With nothing left to hold, the shadow man drew his hand away so he could address his mess and properly consume his own treat. First the ice cream and now _this_ … Unless they were going to go on a fucking proper date, maybe they needed to stay away from food.

Oblivious and with a free hand, Jack went about dusting the crumbs off of his hoodie while he held the rest of Pitch’s s’more for him, “I’s good, right?”

Their resident lumberjack leaned over into Lelouch’s personal space and whispered quietly, “I don’t remember childhood having quite so much sexual tension.”

Lelouch chuckled and pretended to nuzzle against Suzaku so he could whisper back, “They’re in denial. Seifer would be having a fit right now.”

Pitch was nodding as he finished the last bite, also dusting off crumbs onto the dirt. Yes, Jack was obviously better at the stick roasting cooking method than he was, but the utter _mess_ was inevitable and not as pleasant. Candy corn was a lot easier to handle. Still, he provided Jack with the review he was looking for once he was able to speak again, “The pineapple was a nice touch. I wouldn’t have minded a little more char though.”

If there had been a table, Jack would have flipped it. “That was the whole _point,_ you dick!” Pitch _had_ to be doing this on purpose, just to fuck with him, which only made him _more_ of a dick. Jack groaned in frustration and turned his mind to brighter things, flipping the Nightmare King off before grabbing more pineapple and wrapping it with bacon on his skewer. Bacon made everything better, always.

Just in time for Suzaku to take his bacon back off the fire, laughing at the both of them, “You knew he was going to say that, Jack. We _all_ knew he was going to say that.”

Pitch was laughing, _another_ one of Jack’s expressions he considered well worth it, and licked some of the remaining stickiness off of one of his own fingers. He couldn’t help it- the Guardian’s disgruntled little pout was _adorable,_ more so when the spirit was _trying_ so hard to get him to experience something on a deeper level. All the Boogeyman had managed to accomplish was a lot of fun at Jack’s expense. A mission he considered rather successful. Leaning over, he bent one of his arms and rested it obnoxiously on Jack’s shoulder, like he needed the attention, “What, are you _mad_ at me now, Jackie Boy?”

Slowly, fruit and bacon over the fire, Jack turned to face Pitch, far too close and maybe not close enough. There was no right answer to that. Pitch would either laugh or wheedle him until he said yes, anyway. So that he could laugh. Why did Jack _like_ this asshole so much? Why was this fun even through the aggravation? If Bunny had been pulling shit like this, Jack was sure he would have declared him a lost cause and dropped it by now.

But here Jack was, trying again, trying harder, trying to keep the night going when he was getting no help at all. What was _wrong_ with him?

Whatever it was, Jack wasn’t going to make it a cakewalk to take advantage. He didn’t answer, since that was playing into Pitch’s hand, instead choosing to dart forward and snap his jaws shut in a sudden, threatening bite.

“Oh _ho!_ ” Pitch sounded _impressed_ with the direction the frostling had taken, always managing to keep him guessing. He grinned and countered back in an accusatory tone, not moving the slightest inch away, “Why _Jack Frost._ Are you trying to _nip at my nose_?”

“Gonna nip _something,”_ the Guardian grumbled, rolling his eyes and nudging the Boogeyman with his shoulder, throwing his whole weight into the gesture but failing to move back after he was done. It didn’t matter. Jack was fighting a losing battle and the best he could hope for was to manipulate some cuddles out of it at least.

It seemed like a good place for Paul Bunyan to break in, “So does that mean we’re done with the ghost stories for the night?”

Pitch was on his way to ruffling Jack’s hair like he tended to do when he was soothing the spirit’s ruffled feathers so to speak, but he immediately perked up at Suzaku’s mention of ghost stories and simply rested his hand atop that white mop of hair instead, “ _Oh_ , did I tell you the one about the _Rake--_ ”

But Pitch was cut off by a very paranoid Blue Fairy, “ _No._ Nope. We’re done. We’ve been done. _Hush._ ”

Jack chuckled, but the hand on his head kind of made him feel like a stray dog, and, well, fuck it. He was Jack Frost and he would be playful and stupid if he liked, so he tilted his head back and bit Pitch’s fingers warningly.

Suzaku was getting all the quips in, tonight. “Don’t worry, Lulu. Jack will protect you.”

Lelouch rolled his eyes at the display, _and_ the idea. Did he believe Jack could distract Pitch? Yes. Actively _protect_ anyone from Pitch? Absolutely not. He nudged his lumberjack lover, “Isn’t it _your_ job to protect me?”

Pitch had yanked his hand away at the touch of teeth, not from any actual _pain_ but the shock. Again. He wouldn’t have imagined Jack to be quite so _bitey_ despite that one line in a classic song.

It ...piqued his curiosity, and not in an innocent way.

But if the frost spirit didn’t want his placating pettings, so be it. Pitch relocated his hands to his lap with a skeptical look at the younger boy, “The Boogeyman is not for chewing on, Jackie Boy.”

Jack just grinned, “Says who?”

“I know it doesn’t look like it right now, Lulu,” Suzaku replied, using his stick to lift the Guardian’s away from the fire, “You might wanna turn that, Jack,” he added mildly, “but next to these two powerhouses, _we_ would actually be the helpless ones.”

That distracted Jack away from Pitch long enough to turn his fruit and furrow his brow, “But can’t Lelouch make, like, _anything_ happen?”

“Only if someone _wishes_ for it. I can’t grant my own wishes, or Pitch’s mouth would be sewn shut by now--”

“Well how _rude--”_ The Nightmare King tried to interrupt but Lelouch cut him off when he slapped a hand to Suzaku’s chest.

“And _this one_ never wishes for anything.”

Suzaku shrugged with the nonchalance of having done it many, _many_ times before, “I don’t need anything…”

“The point of a wish is not to _need_ something, it’s to _want_ something!” Lelouch argued, not that this was anything he _hadn’t_ tried to explain to the brunette before, “Do _any_ of those mortals _need_ the winning lottery numbers? Or the children, you think they _need_ new toys or candy or imaginary friends? Did Squall _need_ to become a sea witch? Did Jack _need_ to hear Pitch admit he was cute? Everyone _wants_ something, and yes it may be selfish but it doesn’t make you an awful person…”

There was obviously only one bit of that rant Pitch cared about and yellow eyes suddenly honed in on the winter spirit, “You wished for _what_ now?”

That liquid metal gaze was what clued Jack in that something maybe kind of important was said, “Wait, what? When did I wish that?”

Suzaku ignored both of them when he sighed with a smile, “The only thing I want is you.”

….And damnit, Lelouch couldn’t help it when Suzaku got romantic on him. It made him _melty_ to think he was the only thing on this entire planet that the peace-loving spirit wanted enough to _wish_ for. Suzaku’s were obviously his favorite wishes to grant. “You’re such a sap,” he murmured, leaning in for a quick brush of lips.

Which left no one to answer Jack’s question, and Pitch was itching to know. Although he wasn’t sure he bought the oblivious act either. “So you _didn’t_ wish for it? I can’t imagine why you would have to. Everyone thinks you’re cute.”

At those words, a gentle blush rose to Jack’s cheeks, warming just enough for his sluggish blood to rise to the surface and tint his skin a pale blue. Well, there was the obvious, that everyone wasn’t _Pitch,_ but Jack honestly didn’t remember _wishing_ for that kind of thing. As far as he knew, the Blue Fairy had only ever granted wishes he specifically phrased as such, but then, Jack thought, he hadn’t really ever _asked_ Lelouch if that was how his power worked.

He had no answer for the Nightmare King, so Jack turned to the couple a few feet away, “So how does the wishing work, exactly?”

Jack was being kind of obvious about ignoring him, with a blush that was as telling as it was fucking _adorable,_ so Pitch made it obvious he was still watching him, waiting, expecting an answer he’d probably never get.

Lelouch was halfway in for another kiss, but he stopped for the question that was clearly for him. ….Oh. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that little bit about Jack. Oops? “Someone wishes, I do what I can within my power to grant it. Fairly simple.”

“Yeah, but,” Jack pressed, glancing back at Pitch as if checking to see that the Nightmare King was _still_ eyeing him before continuing, “does the person always _know_ they’re wishing?”

“No,” Suzaku answered before the love of his eternal life could tell a pretty lie.

Pitch _was_ still eyeing Jack, and grinning through every second of it.

Lelouch seemed to sense what Suzaku was up to and frowned at him lightly for it, but returned back to the white-haired spirit with a wave of his hand, “Sometimes a want can be so strong, but there are no words for it. I can pick up on those wishes too.”

Jack really could not remember wanting Pitch to call him cute bad enough to qualify, but it must have happened. Lelouch wasn’t the type to make that kind of thing up. Actually, that was more _Jack’s_ style. That still didn’t explain, “And, what, you feel compelled to grant as many as you can?”

“Only the ones I feel like,” the Blue Fairy smirked, “And then there’s the ones that take hardly any effort at all on my part. No sense in passing those up.”

Jack would have to literally close his eyes and plug his ears to miss the implication there. It was hardly new information, though… Pitch had just _very easily_ admitted that he thought everyone thought Jack was cute. All the same, it kept the blush alive.

Because as easy as Pitch made it sound, as blase as the Boogeyman might have been, Lelouch’s smirk implied it was _so much more._

It wasn’t like they didn’t _all_ know what wasn’t being said here, so Jack figured he had nothing to lose, “So _when_ did I wish for Pitch to call me cute, exactly?”

“Oh you want a _specific_ example?” the wish-granter asked as if it was hard to pick just _one_ . He did kind of understand why Pitch liked to tease Jack so much, “I do seem to recall a time where we were trying to bury him in the snow and you were attempting to appeal to his _softer_ side..”

“Ugh, _must_ you say it like that?” Pitch implored with a shake of his head. As far as he was concerned, Jack was cute _all the time._ What did one instance matter? Was Jack just feeling particularly self-conscious that day? More likely the frostling loved the attention, and Pitch happened to be in the vicinity. If it made those blue eyes light up more vibrantly and brought that soft little smile to his pale lips, the Nightmare King could easily admit how cute the Guardian of Fun was.

Jack flushed darker, remembering the moment and remembering how he felt. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling. Lelouch was more right than he thought anyone knew and it was embarrassing even in the solitude of Jack’s own mind. He liked Pitch’s praise. He wanted it, even knowing it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, because Pitch was right. Everyone said Jack was cute, and Jack smiled and laughed and thanked them for their compliments, but Pitch… Pitch made him _blush._

But they were Pitch and Jack and banter and playful fighting were what they did, not blushing and flattery, so Jack didn’t admit to long suppressed desires or shyly ask the Boogeyman what he thought of it all. Those were things for rom coms and doujins: the things Jack mocked and made fun of. Instead he said, “Attempting? Pitch is ninety-nine percent soft side. If he got any softer, we’d have to prop him up with sticks.”

Pitch promptly smacked him upside the head, appropriately _insulted._ It wasn’t that he was getting soft, _he wasn’t_ , he was just… soft around Jack. Sort of. And so what if he liked to hold something in his sleep or pet and nuzzle his Nightmares. That was his _private_ life.

He was still the master of all things dark and fearful. “You are _poison_ to my reputation, Frost. You certainly don’t need any compliments from _me_ anymore.”

Jack had instantly laughed when he felt the blow to his head. That was _just_ like them, the two of them, smacking each other around in good humor. He covered his head with his hand as if it actually hurt, but by the time he had turned to look at his abuser, the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes, anymore.

_Poison._ The word brought back memories Jack didn’t like to think about, of times when no one took him seriously and everyone who _could_ see him chased him off as fast as they could, because… “‘Course, Pitch. All I do is mess things up, remember?”

“Hmph.” There was something not quite right about that smile the more Pitch analyzed it. ...And damnit, these were the kind of things that _were_ degrading his reputation but, regardless… He slid an arm around Jack’s shoulders, idly fingering the strings of that frosted hoodie and leaning in like he had a secret to tell, “I guess I’ll just have to be _scarier,_ won’t I?”

The closeness was nice. It took the edge off of the anxiety that was eating at Jack, trying to make him believe that the three people in front of him would only want him around until he screwed up, and then they’d leave him behind, not worth the trouble he caused. It wasn’t fun to feel like that, and Jack had gotten pretty good at pushing it aside and focusing on what _was_ fun.

_Pitch_ was fun, and Pitch was fiddling with his hoodie the way he liked to fiddle with the nightmares’ manes. “I dunno,” Jack mused, tapping his chin with a finger contemplatively, “I’m not sure the world could _handle_ that. The Blue Fairy’s already not gonna sleep for a week.”

Lelouch groaned miserably, bringing his hands up to rub at his ears like he could possibly erase the trauma they’d had to suffer. _Twice._ “If not _longer…_ ”

The Boogeyman chuckled with not an ounce of remorse. He’d been invited to tell ghost stories. As far as he was concerned, all he’d done was deliver and deliver _beautifully._ “Oh come on. I’m sure Suzaku has some interesting ways of lulling you to sleep…”

Suzaku was ready with an answer, “He likes it when I-”

But Jack was ready, too, “As hot as I’m sure that is, I don’t really want to hear about it.”

Lelouch agreed with that sentiment and placed a finger over Suzaku’s lips, “Let’s not try to taint poor Jack’s _virgin_ ears. There’s been enough auditory torture tonight.”

The lumberjack merely kissed that finger and smiled.

The Guardian, however, rolled his eyes and checked on his bacon, “If you think I haven’t seen some shit…”

“I’m sure you have,” Pitch comforted, his hand creeping it’s way back up to Jack’s hair for idle petting as he made his next point, “But it doesn’t help your case with the whole pure white thing and having the face of an angel.”

“ _This_ is what you consider the face of an angel?” Jack asked incredulously, pointing at himself and staring wide-eyed at Pitch, “I know an embodiment of a Christian holiday that would vehemently disagree with you.”

Pitch just smiled, a fond thing as he studied the face in question. It really was quite perfect. As an entity of darkness, he was usually repelled by white, but he liked it on Jack. A lot, if he was honest. “The face? Absolutely. The spirit? Well, looks have been known to be deceiving…”

And then Jack was laughing, because okay, that was pretty spot-on. He could agree with that.

Except fuck, because they brought up his virginity (as far as he remembers) and now he was feeling self conscious again. It didn't matter that he had seen damn near everything there was to see, because he had not yet felt a thing and feeling it was what counted.

His friends were dicks. If Jack was not also a dick, he would wonder how this had happened.

Like right now. Jack felt like mocking Pitch with pop lyrics, “‘Cause, Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream?”

Pitch gave the winter spirit a bemused smile, not sure where _that_ came from but it was awfully poetic. And nothing like Jack. He made sure to ruffle his hair nice and messy before retracting his touch altogether. “If that’s a line from something, I’m not familiar. But trust me when I say you’re the farthest thing from a _nightmare._ I think I know a thing or two about nightmares.”

Jack shrugged, “Check the pop charts in a year or two,” after all, it was understandable that most spirits did not abuse their invisible status to spy on pop star songwriting sessions, or movie editing sessions, or broadway dance practice, or video game developing…

They couldn’t see him and Jack couldn’t tell anyone, so what did anybody care?

But then he had to argue, “I know _plenty_ of spirits who would call me a nightmare. We’re planning to kidnap Santa on Christmas Eve. Who’s idea was it to actually _do_ that, huh?”

Pitch _almost_ let out something like a gasp when Jack freely _announced their plans in front of an audience_ , but it was already too late to make the boy shut up. Still, he had to remember to _pick his jaw up_ again, recovering from the sliver of fear that crept down his back thinking their plans were going to be foiled already and he’d _just_ finished the design for the roulette wheel.

...Pitch was really looking forward to this plan, okay? If it didn’t work, he was going to be devastated. “Oh Jack, you’re terrible at keeping secrets, aren’t you…”

Lelouch only made it worse by confirming the fact that _yes,_ he _heard_. “Sounds like a party.”

The Guardian of Fun rolled his eyes, “Weren’t you _just_ listening? We want this so bad it _has_ to count as a wish, and it would take far more effort for Lelouch to stop us than to let us do it and _nobody’s wishing for us to stop_ because nobody knows to wish it, so… And it isn’t like Suzaku’s going to brave the tundra on North’s account.”

Suzaku made it better by nodding, “I know Jack cares about the children. I’m sure it’s a very elaborate plan that will turn out alright in the end.” Also, he really didn’t feel like sailing across frozen oceans right now.

But Pitch was shaking his head. Yes, their audience was relatively harmless gaining the knowledge of their plan, but it was _still_ an audience nevertheless. It was true, Jack would never be an evil mastermind on his own even if he _wanted_ to be. “The less people who know the better, is all,” the Boogeyman attempted to instruct _gently_ , “You can’t just let it slip like that.”

Jack grinned like it was all going according to plan, “So whose nightmare am I right now?”

Pitch sighed, a hand up at his temple rubbing into gray skin like he was fighting the oncoming headache, “If it’s true that you want this as much as I do, then _both_ of ours. If it’s been your plan all along to manipulate the Boogeyman, then congratulations.”  

Jack winked as he pulled his fruit and bacon out of the fire, finally deeming the meat cooked and ready for consumption, “I think I just have more faith in our friends than you do. Or a better sense of what they find _fun.”_

“Likely both. Those would be more _your_ areas of expertise,” Pitch answered flatly with a shrug. This direction of their conversation was making him… uneasy. Like he couldn’t shake off that fear that was only _supposed_ to be a sliver. How bothersome.

The truth was Pitch had far more experience in plans falling to pieces, in having his faith _betrayed_ and ending up more alone than ever at the end of it all. It was just a harmless prank, nothing like _world domination_ surely, however Pitch had to question just how much _emotion_ he’d been investing into it. How well did he really know Jack? _Would_ he see this through, or would he bail out at the last minute if or when North came up with an even _grander_ idea? He already knew very well that Jack had no problem _walking away_.

And Lelouch was hit with all those anxious, paranoid _wishy_ vibes. He had to muffle his laughter into Suzaku’s neck. These two were so back and forth, hot and cold, it was _disorienting_. Unfortunately he had no way of easily proving to the Nightmare King what Jack’s intentions were, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find it kind of fucking adorable how badly Pitch wanted their scheme to go through.

“Exactly, _I’m_ the expert,” Jack said with one finger held high, then poked Pitch in the chest with it, nudging his shoulder back to make a point, “so you should trust me. For example,” he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder at the other couple, “I know Lelouch is having a _grand_ time right now, and that he’d enjoy it _way_ more to hear our stories after the fact than to trudge up to the north pole and ruin our wishes. Honestly, the plan is safe with him. He _enjoys_ well-laid plans. _Trust_ me.”

… If only Pitch _could_ give his trust away like that. He merely offered the frostling a mild smile and tilted his head indulgently, “Whatever you say, Jackie Boy.” It wasn’t as if Jack was going to take any advice about the importance of _discretion_ from him seriously.

Except Jack could _also_ tell that Pitch wasn’t enjoying any of this right now, too. So he pushed on, because he thought maybe if Pitch understood, he could feel better about it. “And Suzaku’s complicated, it kind of took me a while to figure it out, but he’s invested in his friends. _He_ has fun when _we_ have fun. The real reason he won’t ruin our plans is that he wants us to be happy. I’m sure he _also_ doesn’t think we’ll ruin Christmas for the world, but really, he just wants _us_ to have fun.”

Suzaku paused in the middle of what had been idly caressing Lelouch’s arm to stare in stunned silence at the frost spirit. He had no idea Jack’s Guardianship was as sensitive as that.

“Yes, and that’s very sweet of him. Of _both_ of them.” It wasn’t necessarily Lelouch or Suzaku that Pitch was concerned with. Really, if it had to slip at all, Jack couldn’t have done it with a safer pair of spirits. “I was merely caught off guard hearing you talk about it. That’s all.”

Jack looked at Pitch like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. Was the plan supposed to be like Fight Club or something? It was a great movie, but not really prime for reality. If the problem wasn’t their audience, then it _was_ Jack, and Jack wasn’t sure what he had done wrong. He just… talked.

Suddenly his eyes widened, “Oh my God, Pitch, do you think I’m gonna tell _North_ or something?”

“ _No!_...No,” Pitch shook his head and hoped he sounded reassuring. He didn’t want to make Jack upset or think he’d done something wrong. Having read his fears in the past, he knew Jack was sensitive about making ‘messes’ wherever he went, no matter how nonchalant he played it off. “I was just caught off guard. I, personally, thought we wouldn’t discuss it with anyone else, but we never established that officially. It’s fine, Jack.”

The Guardian wasn’t sure he believed that. Pitch almost looked _panicked,_ and he wasn’t enjoying himself, and Jack just wanted to… _fix_ it. He turned a little in his seat to better face his partner in crime and tried, in a quiet voice, “...I guess you’ve never been around to see how the yetis glare at me, but Pitch, try to remember that I’ve been making the Guardians’ lives harder _way_ longer than I’ve been making them easier. I have spent a _long_ time trying to break into North’s workshop to…” The frost spirit gave a small smile, “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d got in. Probably the same thing I did to your bedroom, then high-tailed it out of there as fast as I could.”

Jack shook his head, “The point is, I _really do_ want this as much as you do. I cannot _wait_ to make the yetis freak out. It’s going to be amazing. So, you know, don’t worry. I may ruin a lot of plans, but I’m pretty great at making impossible things work, too.”

… After Jack spectacularly foiled his most foolproof plan to date by starting a _snowball fight,_ Pitch couldn’t disagree. And oddly enough, it relieved him, although that may have had more to do with the clear determination in those pretty blue eyes. Jack was being earnest with him and the shade appreciated the display. His smile was far more genuine this time around. “You certainly are, aren’t you?” he asked rhetorically, then sighed, “Well alright. You will be pleased to know that I have finished designing the roulette wheel.”

Suzaku did not seem to have worked through his shock, yet, “...A _roulette wheel?”_ Or maybe they were just shocking him again.

Jack grinned at him, _“Amazing,”_ then turned back to Pitch and offered him the first bite of pineapple and bacon now that _fun_ was creeping back into the Boogeyman, “And I’ve identified the perfect part of the staircase to bottleneck and block the yetis from getting to us. I’ll have to locate the elf doors when we’re there, but I can always just freeze any that get through.”

As easily as his doubts had snuck up on him, they seemed to disappear just as quickly listening to Jack’s update on his ‘research’. He _was_ taking this seriously. Or as seriously as one could take a prank. Pitch kind of had the urge to hug the younger spirit for his restored resolve, but he settled for letting Jack feed him again. “ _Mm_ , it’s most definitely going to be a Christmas to remember,” the Nightmare King purred and then went in for that first tempting bite.

Lelouch smirked from where he was buried against Suzaku’s side, happy that everything was back to snowflakes and sand horses again with his two most hopeless friends. It had been… tense for a few minutes there. “Do capture it on film for us. I would love to see how it all plays out.”

Jack took the second bite for himself. “You know,” he began pensively, “I’ve been wanting to get a laptop and smartphone, but I can’t figure out how to sign up for service without, you know, technically existing.”

That made Pitch chuckle. Gods, Jack was _such_ a teenager. Why were they such good friends? “Well a laptop should be easy enough to steal and there are places where internet access is free, right?”

Lelouch was all in favor of helping Jack procure a means of recording this prank of epic proportions for all to remember for the rest of eternity. He righted himself up and looked directly at the winter spirit with one of those knowing smirks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that that sounds like a _wish_ …”

“Oh my fucking God,” The Guardian’s eyes widened in disbelief before he decided that yes, this was reality, and suddenly he was grinning from ear to ear, “ _Fuck_ yes, I’ve been wishing for some tech! Do you know what kind of damage I could do if I had access to the internet?!”

The Blue Fairy was already considering it a done deal, orchestrating at least four ways in his mind that he’d get Jack a smartphone within the week. This one wouldn’t be very hard to grant either and Jack’s pure excitement was well worth it. “Give me three days, and I’ll see what I can come up with for you.”

“I suppose the internet _is_ the largest perpetuator of fear and fun these days,” Pitch mused, having no desire for that sort of technology himself. The internet was scary enough _without_ him. “Though whatever you do will be under the guise of anonymity. No one’s going to believe it’s _Jack Frost._ ”

“That’s the best part!” Jack cried, voice rising a couple octaves in his excitement, “I could write super long stories about myself, instagram all my craziest ice constructs with hashtag Jack Frost and people will just assume it’s some super enthusiastic fan, but the _overall_ result is that my name could become a _thing,_ and then everyone will hear it more often, including kids, and _kids,_ kids _believe.”_

Suzaku was barely holding in his laughter. He was glad Lelouch’s powers would be put to good use, here. If any of them could navigate the treacherous landscape that was the world wide web, it was Jack. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

The frost spirit turned a little sheepish when he shrugged, “I’ve had two decades to consider the implications of the web. It would have been stupid of me not to.”

It really was clever of Jack to think of manipulating the masses on an even _larger_ scale from the comfort of a single electronic device. He was already so powerful. How unstoppable would he be with a tool like _the web_ at his disposal?

Pitch was almost disappointed he hadn’t thought of it before, but then, he’d always been more of an old fashioned soul. As far as he was concerned, his lair was already rigged up with all the human toys he could ever need.

“You start taking selfies wherever you go and I’m not sure we can be friends anymore,” he teased the winter Guardian.

Jack laughed, but then he tilted his head in an adorably unashamed fashion, “I’ve kind of been wondering if I would even show up in the photos, honestly. Would only believers be able to see me, or would the lack of a soul in pixels remove the belief qualifier? I seriously need to experiment.”

Suzaku nodded dumbly, “ _A lot_ of thought.”

Lelouch recovered from his snickering enough to finalize their ‘deal’. “Three days, and you can start playing. Do you want to plan to meet somewhere, or should I assume you’ll be with him?” the fairy pointed at their resident Boogeyman that Jack was practically joined at the hip with.

Jack’s smile was shameless, “I can stick around with Pitch for a little while.”

But Pitch couldn’t just let it go like that. “Oh you _can_ , can you?”

The frost spirit rolled his eyes and nudged Pitch with his shoulder, “Don’t pretend you mind.”

Pitch nudged him back with an elbow, “Don’t pretend there’s anywhere else you’d rather be.”

“Oh, was I pretending that?” Jack asked with mock surprise, placing a hand over his heart as he looked up at the Boogeyman, “I didn’t mean to be pretending that. I promise I have nothing better to do than hang around irritating the shit out of you.”

Pitch smirked and used his long, gray fingers to flick the frost spirit’s forehead, “Until you get your new toy.”

Jack pulled back, but grinned anyway, “Then I’ll have nothing better to do than take selfies with the Nightmares.”

“Oh Hell,” Pitch shook his head with a laugh, knowing just how much the Nightmares would _play along_ , “You can’t put them online unless they’re _scary_.”

“You can’t put limitations on my art, Pitch!” Jack cried out, faux horrified at the mere _idea._

“The Nightmares are _my_ art! You can’t use them without paying proper royalties,” Pitch argued back with a sharky grin.

“I’m a poor, _homeless_ teenager!” Jack pointed out, “I can’t pay _royalties!”_...Then he offered a mischievous, truly devilish grin, “But I can trade services rendered. What do you want?”

Oh, what did he want indeed.

Pitch took the high road, “One believer per photo _per Nightmare_. Three if any identifiable part of my lair is included.”

Jack was stunned at the _reasonability_ of that request, followed by what a high bar it actually was.  
  
Well, _if_ the spirits actually showed up in pictures, and given that acquiring believers was Jack’s overarching purpose already, _and_ that Jack really did want to help Pitch anyway…  
  
“Deal.”

“Excellent,” Pitch smiled, extending his hand to make it official. ….They were making an awful lot of plans together lately. Why couldn’t it have been this easy in Antarctica?

Oh well. They were allies of sorts now. Whatever this was between them. “I’m counting on you. I’m going to need a lot more believers on my globe for the strength to drag _North_ into the shadows…”

Jack readily grabbed that hand, “And I’m gonna _need_ you to drag him through the shadows to ensure no yetis are with him on the upper floors. His workshop is on the wrong side of my bottleneck.”

Pitch gripped Jack’s hand just a fraction tighter when he promised, “One way or another, we _will_ make this work.”

Jack nodded, "Yeah, I mean, I guess we could nick one of his globes and accomplish the same thing, but shadows would be cooler."

“After this, North will be questioning his _own_ shadow for many Christmases to come,” Pitch’s tone was nothing but determined, his passion for their plan back with a vengeance.

“Fuck, you’re evil,” Jack laughed, going in for another marshmallow, “I shouldn’t find it nearly as fun as I do.”  


* * *

 

It was Halloween day and Jack knew they wouldn’t really be getting up to anything until night fall, but… Well, okay, he had already spent several whole days with Pitch earlier in the week and maybe it was overkill or overstaying his welcome to come early now, but Jack was just too fucking excited to stay away for a few more hours. He had nothing he wanted to do more than plan their upcoming crazy night down to the second so that they could pack as much fearful fun into their allotted time as possible.

So he zoomed down the tunnel leading into the lair as fast as he dared with the darkness making it hard to tell where the walls were. Which meant that the faint sound of a dance beat became the loud pulse of…-was that swing music?-very quickly. But no, Jack remembered swing, it didn’t sound like this. Except it did, almost.

The Guardian was terribly curious.

It took zero seconds for Jack to pull out his new phone and snap a picture when he finally emerged into the dim lair of shadows and, apparently, dance.

By then, the song playing from _somewhere_ in the shadows had picked up enough that the clarinet and trumpet accompaniment drowned out the sound of the camera snap, not to mention the rhythmic stomping of footfalls and _hooves_.

The Nightmare King was surrounded by five of his faithful steeds in the middle of the stone floor.

"Come on, you ladies are _rusty_ ," Pitch taunted with a laugh, leading the Nightmares forward to the beat.

And they followed. To the beat.

In fact by the time the singing started, they all looked perfectly choreographed, Pitch in the middle of the half circle they created, mirroring every rapid step back, forth, side to side, cross step, and hop.

_'I'm a bad boy- I need to dance_

_If you don't dance, no romance'_

They even played along to the lyrics, one Nightmare nosing into the Boogeyman's face only for him to dramatically turn her away and move on to 'dance' with the next one.

For mostly remaining on four legs, they kept up pretty well with the fluid movements of their master and Pitch had enough jazz hands for _all of them_ . They leaned when he leaned, twirled when he twirled, and jumped when he jumped, though there wasn't much they could do about the _splits_ here and there…

The six of them appeared entirely engrossed, like it was a performance they'd been practicing for months, and it was time to entertain the audience.

The song was two-thirds of the way over when any of them noticed they _had_ one.

It was a Nightmare to realize it first, only the slightest misstep to cue Pitch in that something had distracted her.

And then Pitch didn't have to turn and look but he _knew_. Well damn. Caught red-handed.

Although, he'd already been caught at his most vulnerable before, this was only inevitable, right?

It wasn't going to slow him down, and there was _nothing_ that could destroy his high spirits today, so Pitch continued on until the time was right…

" _I'm a bad boy- I need to dance_

_If you don't dance, no romance_ " -Pitch's arm shot out towards the other end of the room as he sang along, shadowy tendrils growing and spearing outwards until they curled around a certain frost spirit's waist and ankle, dragging-

“ _Feel like dancing', dance with me_ ”-and shoving him into Pitch's arms where he caught the spirit and guided him into a quick little twirl, -" _First dance is always free._ "

So there had been a brief spike of fear when Jack was discovered, worried Pitch might be upset about it (despite the photo Jack would swear happened on reflex), and he clutched his staff in his shock, but he was laughing by the time he reached the Nightmare King, because okay, that was pretty fucking slick, and he allowed the wood to leave his fingers and fall to the floor several feet away.

Jack had never properly danced swing. He remembered when it was popular with the youth, he remembered practicing some of the steps on his own, he remembered being caught up in the excitement and energy of a room full of swing dancers, but Jack had been without a partner. No dancers could see him and anyone who could see him didn’t want to dance.

So he was a little slow through the twirl, his feet were just barely keeping up with wherever Pitch was taking him, and his posture was trash, but Jack was dancing, so he didn’t care and he hoped Pitch didn’t, either.

Pitch didn’t.

He adored that he’d managed to teach the Nightmares how to dance and he wouldn’t have traded any of their dancing moments for anything, but there was something about having a partner that could stay standing on their two feet. Pitch adjusted accordingly, simplifying his movements so Jack could follow him easier, or otherwise turning him this way and that for whatever the shade felt like doing. And the Nightmares still continued to match him.

He never would have imagined a scenario where he’d be _dancing_ with Jack Frost. Well, in this very literal sense anyway.

“You’re early, Jack,” he finally spoke near the Guardian’s ear when he had him back in his arms, because he didn’t _dare_ adjust the volume of the music.

“Too excited,” Jack explained briefly, oddly winded despite not really needing the air from trying to keep up with the rapid beat. Probably _because_ he was so excited. “Didn’t want to wait. What _is_ this music?” Because seriously, he _needed_ to know.

Pitch smiled at the enthusiasm, ignoring the way his chest felt thinking Jack might be that impatient to see _him,_ and spun them both around again, holding the boy’s waist and lifting him off the floor as he did so, “A little contemporary twist on classic swing. Do you like it?”

Jack’s knees rose automatically and his hands clutched at Pitch’s shoulders through the lift. He couldn’t find it in him to resent that he was technically dancing the lady’s part, especially since he couldn’t lead even if he wanted to. He was thrilled to be dancing _with_ someone at all.

“I do!” the Guardian confirmed, head bowed so he could watch his feet and make sure they were... doing something similar to what they might be supposed to, “I didn’t know this was a thing!”

The Nightmare King chuckled fondly. Jack was being just a little bit _too_ adorable right now and that excitement was starting to infect him something fierce. This was only exacerbated when the current song faded seamlessly into a happy remix of a Glenn Miller classic. “They apparently call it Electroswing,” Pitch explained, his head also tilted down to watch their feet work together, clumsily but in rhythm, “I fell in love with it instantly.”

“It is pretty great,” Jack agreed, looking up again when he recognized the song that was turned into the song they were currently listening to. “ _Electroswing?_ That is an _awesome_ name. Where’s the music coming from? I just see cave and more cave. Do the cages have speakers or something?”

Pitch, always proud of his own handiwork, followed Jack’s gaze up the cave walls with a knowing look, “I have speakers wired through the entire lair. Complete surround sound for wherever and whenever the urge strikes for a dance break.”

“Dance break?” Jack asked, attention returning to the shade in front of him.

The Boogeyman was not going to go into details. He merely shrugged and glided his way around to Jack’s other side, “Sometimes a man just needs to dance with his horses.”

It was _impossible_ to hear that sentence spoken that seriously and not snort with gleeful giggles, “Oh my God, Pitch.” It made it a little hard to keep up in the dance, but given that Jack could _not_ help himself, it would have to do.

“If you have a problem with it,” he spoke as if Jack was judging him instead of _laughing_ at him as usual. Pitch grabbed Jack for another spin, this one with enough momentum to leave the white-haired boy a good couple feet away when he let him go, “You know where the door is.”

Jack didn’t mind being spun that hard or that fast; the wind did worse to him all the time. He did mind the way Pitch dropped his hand like they were… done. Did he do something wrong? He didn’t say anything he hadn’t said before. Suddenly, the light and happy feelings he had been basking in left him as a weight settled low in his chest; was Pitch kicking him out? But tonight…

He almost forgot what Pitch had actually said, “Why would I have a problem with it?”

Pitch gave the boy a confused look wondering why he looked so stunned. He’d expected Jack to march right back up to him, or even _dance_ his way under the circumstances, but he was kind of looking like a kicked puppy now.

And it was seriously messing with his groove. Pitch held his hand back out like he needed to ask the lady for a dance all over again, and forced his feet to stay _still_ , “You would know the answer better than me. Get back here, then.”

Jack was confused, too. Nothing was wrong? But then why…? He reached out for Pitch on auto-pilot, wanting the touch on an unconscious, instinctive level that was more powerful than his mind’s uncertainty. He stepped in much closer than he had been before, hand lightly landing on the Nightmare King’s shoulder, as he stared up into those metallic eyes. “I…” He began hesitantly, still not really sure what was going on, but sure that honesty would help, “I _like_ it, Pitch.”

Well, apparently they were trading moments of ...stunned-ness now, which was par for the course really, the way they always went back and forth with _everything_. Pitch hadn’t anticipated Jack getting up so close to him, looking at him so intently. He wasn’t sure what Jack wanted with that stare of his, but damn if he knew, he would have handed it over in a heartbeat. For a moment, all he could do was stare back with his own surprised expression, taking in the little details being presented to him, all the different icy shades of blue that made up the winter spirit’s eyes…

Jack was probably teasing him again. That had to be it. Pitch smirked wryly, and slowly moved to wrap his hands around the younger man’s waist, “Of course you do,” but only after he’d slipped into the pocket of that blue hoodie and fished out the new phone Jack was obsessed with, frantically swiping his finger against the screen while he had the frostling pressed up tight to his chest, “Now how much picture and video did you take? I can’t allow you to have the ability to blackmail me.”

“Hey!” Jack cried, spell broken in the face of losing the photo he had taken and intended to cherish _forever._ “Give that back! It was just one and I’m _keeping_ it!” Both of Jack’s hands left Pitch’s body to steal the phone back, and even the reduced mobility couldn’t stop him from protecting his precious data. He _wanted_ that photo, potential blackmail be damned. He wasn’t planning on using it like that, anyway.

But Pitch was still taller than the Guardian and fully intended to abuse this advantage in the name of his reputation. He used one hand to hold the phone up high and the other to keep Jack smothered up against him as much as he could. He didn’t want to have to resort to using the shadows. “One what? _Video_? I don’t remember consenting to that.”

_“Photo,_ you ass! And I’m not gonna blackmail you!” It didn’t take Jack long to realize he was never going to be able to reach the phone from the ground. He began pushing himself up, using Pitch against himself by climbing the Boogeyman’s body, feet pushing off his knees and thighs gripping Pitch’s waist. One of Jack’s hands landed back on the shade’s shoulder only to be abandoned a second later in favor of pushing off of Pitch’s head, instead, “Is it so wrong that I would like to _remember_ this?”

Pitch sputtered incoherently as he was employed as a _climbing pole._ Maybe if there wasn’t a detrimental photo in the balance and a hand _using_ him for balance on his head he could have appreciated the subtleties of the way Jack fit against his body, legs hiked up on his waist like he was ready for _some_ kind of ride…

A true pity.

Pitch dropped the phone to his lower hand behind the Guardian’s back and wrapped the now freed arm around Jack’s middle practically folded over the top of him.

And then, mercifully, he asked, “....Just one photo?”

Jack made an undignified squawking sound as the phone fell back out of his reach. God damn it. Without wasting any time, one of his arms reached behind him to continue the fight, desperately feeling down Pitch’s arm to where his hand was keeping the phone from him, but his eyes remained trained on the Nightmare King’s. Since he wouldn’t be able to see the phone anyway, he might as well let Pitch know he meant business, “Just one, and I want to keep it, Pitch. If you delete it, I’m gonna be _so_ mad at you…”

Pitch sighed, because _there were those eyes again_ . He had to admit, the fear coursing through Jack was a slight motivator to continue playing keep away but it was weak compared to ….Jack himself. Jack, who the Boogeyman would rather just see happy and fuck, he really _was_ getting soft.

“...Fine,” he conceded, handing the phone back over, “I don’t know how to get past your lock screen anyway. Just know you’ll have _my_ wrath to face if that one photo ‘accidentally’ gets leaked somehow.”

The relief that flooded Jack made it so he couldn’t keep the smile from his face, but the frost spirit wasn’t stupid. He immediately unlocked his phone and sent that photo up into the cloud. He was pretty sure Pitch didn’t understand technology well enough to find and delete the back-ups. (And Jack didn’t know what kind of network Lelouch had him on, but he had service literally everywhere. It was exactly like those old commercials.)

It was a too-perfect set up though. Jack sent his phone to sleep, tucked it safely back into his hoodie pocket, then rested both arms over the Boogeyman’s shoulders and smiled his most innocent, most innocuous smile when he sweetly said, “I think I can handle you.”

Pitch scowled at the icy little brat who had no right feeling that cocky in the face of the Nightmare King’s anger. ...Not that he was actively fighting the hug or anything, but his reputation was really his last thread to cling to in order to regain his lost powers. He did not appreciate it being threatened so lightly.

But points to Jack for figuring out the one way to knock the Boogeyman’s mood down a couple notches on his favorite day of the year. “Then you’d leave me no choice but to do something _unimaginable_.”

“Like take over the world and erase sweet dreams from the face of the earth?” Jack teased, leaning in close enough that their noses were almost touching to taunt him, but the Guardian of Fun could _feel_ it seeping out of Pitch, so he shook his head and slowly began sliding back down the Nightmare King’s body until his toes could reach the floor. “Don’t worry, Pitch, I’d owe you…” Jack paused a second to consider it, “at least _eight_ new believers for that photo. The lair was clearly visible at such a wide angle.”

There was the briefest of seconds when Pitch’s eyes went wide the closer Jack leaned in, because _what was he doi--_ and then he was gone again, back on a normal level and fuck, just…. _fuck_. He was on a fucking roller coaster today and Jack just made the highs and the lows that much more extreme.

Pitch needed to not focus so much on having the Guardian in his arms, and more on the holiday he loved so much. Or even the music that had always done so well to soothe him. Amazing how Jack somehow managed to trump all of that.

Mildly recomposed, the Boogeyman pretended he was re-thinking over Jack’s numbers with a tilt of his head, “We never discussed how many you’d owe me if _I_ was in the picture. So add a thousand to that, and _then_ we’d be even.”

Jack widened his own eyes, entirely on purpose, and gasped, playing along in the hopes that Pitch would start enjoying himself again, “But that’s not fair! I can’t post selfies with you? How am I supposed to taunt Bunnymund on twitter?”

Oh Gods, were they _all_ playing with technology now? Pitch did not want to think about what the overgrown kangaroo could possibly find use for with a smartphone.

Then again, Jack was most likely bullshitting him. “Use your words,” Pitch suggested before adding with a sly little smirk, “Or show me just how good _you_ are, Jackie Boy.”

The Guardian considered his challenge carefully, eyeing Pitch up and down while he thought, before turning it on its head, “Fine. For every thousand believers, I get to post a selfie with you.”

Pitch blinked at least three times, not comprehending that Jack would even think of agreeing. Or want a picture with him that bad. Was the act of posting mundane everyday photos on a space where the world had the ability to see really so much fun? He didn’t understand.

But could he say no to a _thousand_ new spots on his globe? “....Only if I have final approval of what you post. I do have to retain some shred of _mystery_.”

Immediately Jack was shaking his head, "Nu uh. Five hundred if I have to get your approval."

Pitch narrowed his golden eyes. They were bartering over this? "Eight hundred."

“Gotta make it worth it to me, Pitch.” Jack grinned, “Eight hundred and I might just post that shit and get your okay later.”

"And it has to be worth it to _me,_ Frost. For five hundred, I'd rather hang on to my mystery and you can take all the selfies you want with the kangaroo rabbit."  

“It _is_ worth it to you,” The Guardian reminded, poking Pitch in the chest, _“Five hundred_ believers. That _you_ don’t have to work for. That’s a big number, Boogeyman. It’ll take me a while to get there. I know I’m amazing, but miracles aren’t really my thing.”

Pitch grabbed that bold finger in his much larger hand and held onto it while he asked, "Why are you fighting so hard for this, Jack?"

“Because this whole _thing_ is important to me, Pitch,” Jack answered steadily, not removing his hand, its placement turning into the epicenter of their battle of wills, “The trending tags, the shared moments, the recorded memories, the _proof_ I was _there,_ the _believers…_ If I want to prove that Jack Frost and the Boogeyman pinned Santa Claus to a roulette wheel to _the whole world,_ I should be allowed to!”

“That’s all well and good for _you_ , Jack,” Pitch emphasized, squeezing that finger a little tighter, “If you’re determined to make yourself the celebrity hot shot of the spirit world, by all means, hashtag away. I understand that it works for you. It _won’t_ work for me, if you start getting my face involved.”

“I don’t understand how proof that the Boogeyman exists will somehow unconvince people.”

“Because the more people know and _recognize_ the Boogeyman, the less potent the fear. People are less likely to be afraid of things they _understand._ Haven’t I explained this before?”

“But it was _you_ who said no one was gonna believe it was _really_ Jack Frost, anyway. Why are you so sure they’ll believe _you’re_ really the Boogeyman?”

“They probably won’t. But I don’t even want them to be able to _guess_ who the Boogeyman is. I need my anonymity for now. Maybe if I _hadn’t_ been beaten and tortured within an inch of my immortal life, I’d be in a position to handle the ebb and flow of believers, but that isn’t the case, _is it_?”

Jack rolled his eyes and threw one hand into the air, _“Five hundred believers._ That’s the whole fucking point, Pitch.”

“If I need five hundred believers, I can damn well get them on my own,” Pitch argued scathingly, raising _his_ hand in the air but only to summon a shadow to turn off the stereo. His mood for dance had officially fizzled out. “As I said, whatever you want to do with your image is _your_ business, and my image is _mine._ I know you think this is all in the name of fun, but _I_ have to be careful. You can’t respect that?”

“I respect it plenty, Pitch,” The Guardian pushed forward with his trapped hand again, “and you can be as scary as you want in the photos. You can be all shadows, if you want to! All glowy eyes and sharp teeth and silhouette, whatever. You _approve the photo,_ remember? A challenge to earn it is fine, but I don’t want to have to pretend you aren’t in my life.”

Oh, he would just _have_ to phrase it that way, wouldn’t he? Jack with his good intentions and heart of gold, reaching out to a lonely shadow king. Pitch hated it as much as he _liked_ it. “You could just _live_ your life, you know, instead of trying to capture parts of it and put them on display,” the Boogeyman smiled a true smile, leaning down to touch their foreheads together, much in the same way Jack nearly had earlier, “Come around here often enough, and I’ll give you memories you’ll _never_ be able to forget.”

Jack sucked in a slow breath. Pitch was… really close. And saying things Jack really liked. Well, mostly liked. That last part, anyway.

He couldn’t exactly disagree with the first part, though. Jack didn’t intend to take so many pictures that he forgot to do anything else. It wasn’t like he had _planned_ to snap that picture when he first entered the Nightmare King’s domain. He just… saw something amazing and had to save it forever. After losing all of his memories from his previous life and going so long wondering who he was, where he had come from, why he was here… The idea of a hard copy version, backed up over and over, seen by everyone so if he ever forgot he can be reminded, _really_ appeals to him.

Even so, “Promise?”

“Oh Jack,” Pitch chuckled, rather enjoying the proximity that Jack wasn’t pulling away from. It was _almost_ enough to erase the tension from their arguing, “You’re with the one and only _Nightmare King_. It’s all but guaranteed.”

The winter spirit nodded lightly against Pitch, accepting that as truth without argument.

Only…

“I’m still gonna take pictures.”

He should have seen that coming.

Pitch made a disgruntled little noise and picked his head up enough so they weren’t touching, but he remained standing close. He had no illusions that he could actually stop Jack from taking pictures, but he wondered if he’d have to start hanging around the Guardian permanently in his shadow form. “You know my terms.”

Pitch’s verbal disgust made Jack feel… not _bad,_ per se, but like he needed to _explain_ if he ever wanted the Boogeyman to accept his new found hobby. So he did what any defensive, barely-legal adult would do: he whined about it.

Grabbing Pitch by the front of his robes, Jack shook him back and forth while he _explained,_ “I’m _eighteen,_ Pitch! _Forever_ eighteen! Do you know what that’s like? I’m _always_ into the new thing. I get caught up in _every fucking fad!_ I feel self-righteous about _every social movement_ and I want to play with _all the new toys!_ I was two hundred and fifty years old and you know how long it took me to get used to microwaves? Two days! Do you know how long it took me to figure out how to blow up microwaves? Two and a half days! And I felt kind of bad about that, but it was awesome, but the point is I can’t help it! My adaptability to fashion is forever stuck in the hipster setting! It’s the _thing_ right now to take a bunch of stupid photos where I don’t even look good and write stupid little quips that are barely english behind a thing called a hashtag and love every second and _Pitch! I love every second!_ What do you _want_ from me?!”

….

“To calm down for starters,” he replied smoothly enough after having his _brain_ rattled throughout that whole teenage outburst. Sometimes Jack’s eternal age _was_ worrisome to Pitch, who was decidedly _not_ of that same mindset. Honestly, it made it hard to take the spirit seriously. Teenagers were only serious when they _wanted_ to be, after all, and with all _that_ said, the only thing the Boogeyman took away from it was a bunch of melodrama. Which. _Who_ was the Drama King here?

Pitch waved his hand and continued, “Then I’m just going to hope that this stupidity only lasts for the lesser part of a century and that my reputation won’t be destroyed by proxy. Meanwhile, if you want to get into something that’s _actually_ fun and shows off more than your ability to _push a button_ , I would love to teach you how to swing dance.”  

Jack’s grip loosened on the Boogeyman’s robes, tantrum over and energy diverted to this new, long-awaited possibility, hands sliding hesitantly back to Pitch’s shoulders to take up something resembling the proper position, “...I remember being really into swing…”

How easy his attention was distracted. Pitch smirked down at the frostling. Maybe if he could get Jack to just dance with him instead of thinking of reaching for his phone, things would be okay. Both of his hands slid their way down that slim body and rested at Jack’s waist. “It’s _electroswing_ now, Jack. Exciting and relatively new. Do you want to dance with me?”

It felt plenty electric even without the music to have Pitch’s long fingers pressed into his body like that. _Forever eighteen._

“I know,” the Guardian grinned, shrugging one shoulder bashfully, “It has _all_ my hipster senses tingling. I would _love_ to dance.”

“ _Wonderful_ ,” the Nightmare King purred out darkly, as if Jack had somehow just handed over his _soul._

...Of course right now they were looking a little more modern junior high prom than cool, swinging jazz cats, but they had to start somewhere and if it meant Jack staying this close to him, Pitch had exactly zero problems.

Though he did have to raise his hand again to direct one of the shadows to turn the stereo back on, quieter this time. “I get the feeling you’re a natural. You can barely stay still as it is.”

“I don’t know,” Jack shook his head, reaching to take Pitch’s hand in his own since that was where it was actually _supposed_ to be, “I’ve never had a partner. I’m pretty good at solo stuff, though. Lots of practice.”

“It was difficult for me to find a partner too,” Pitch admitted, fingers lightly curling around Jack’s hand as he directed him side to side along with the beat, “Only _Cupid_ was brave enough to learn to dance with the Boogeyman.”

Which begged one very important question.

“Who lead?”

“Cupid,” And Pitch wasn’t ashamed of it. Mostly because, “Until I mastered it better than him.”

Jack laughed, because the sheer _cockiness_ with which Pitch had said that was _delightful_ and it ate away at the lingering tension and awkwardness of their earlier… misunderstandings. He wanted to shake the rest of it off, too. “So you take your dance pretty seriously, huh?”

“Seriously?” Pitch repeated as if Jack had _cursed_ at him. He countered such ‘seriousness’ by leading Jack into a little twirl. “Hell no. It’s all in good _fun_ , Jack.”

Nothing else could have solidified Jack's smile quite like his center. He _felt_ centered again, focusing on the emerging emotion from his new dance partner. If he could just keep Pitch happy...

"So," The Guardian began, hand returning to loosely hold the Boogeyman's arm. He hadn't yet looked down at his feet! "If the first dance's always free, what's the second going to cost me?"

The shadow man laughed, a deep, rich sound. So Jack _had_ been paying attention, hm? It made his chest feel lighter. ...More than that. Pitch was kind of really fucking excited to have a dance partner that would be into this as much as him.

Or almost as much. He’d ride this out for as long as he could until Jack found the next fad to obsess over.

“Time,” Pitch eventually answered, admiring how light Jack was on his feet, “I insist you come back and dance with me again.”

"Done deal," that was easy to promise. Jack definitely _wanted_ to come back and do this again. He was pretty sure he'd never get tired of all these excuses for closeness and touching. It was a three hundred year long dream come true, "So teach me, Shadowman."

Pitch met that challenge with _gusto_. He could have easily continued all night, instructing Jack how to match his moves interspaced with little moments of straight up showing off and larger moments of their usual banter.

But it was also _Halloween._

He could practically _feel_ the sun as it crept across the sky, inching towards night, and maybe it was just his imagination, but nightfall did seem to be approaching just a _hint_ faster than usual.

Pitch really liked his arrangement with the Candle Yin.

Unable to wait a second longer, they ended up resurfacing a good two hours before sunset. There were so many ideas buzzing through the mind of the Nightmare King it was hard to know where to _begin._ Though there were no trick-or-treaters about yet, most of them excitedly getting into their costumes for the night, so Pitch’s first stop was to swipe some candy corn. To _truly_ get in the mood, or so he claimed.

After that, they’d stopped at a nearby Halloween attraction, a haunted house that was preparing to open for its busiest night of the year. Pitch decided to “help” some of the decorations with his own personal touch that left most of the performers wondering if the house really _was_ haunted. Hey, it made the banshee girl _one-thousand_ times more convincing if the scream was real.

Jack left behind a clever, ‘cold spot’ that should have taken a couple hours to dissipate. He laughed when he pointed out that even if they found the hidden ice, how the fuck were they going to _explain_ it?

They gave the same treatment to six more houses, four hayrides, and a haunted asylum that even the _Boogeyman_ was impressed with. He liked the ones that knew how to go all out.

Soon enough, young trick-or-treaters began to populate the streets, and that’s where the pair of fear and fun ended up next. Pitch started small, playing with the shadows, making them grow and loom and _slither._ He had a whole street of children compulsively checking over the shoulder to make sure no one, or no _thing_ , was following them on their quests for candy.

He was rather proud of the trick with the spider though. It was just a common house spider, but by the candlelight of a jack-o-lantern on someone’s very festive porch, Pitch made its shadow grow to a truly _monstrous_ size.

Oh, and he gave it eight glowing yellow eyes. The ensuing screams were music to his ears, and the adult comments of how amazed they were by their neighbor’s elaborate ‘decorations’ made him laugh.

“Okay, I need you for this one, Jack” Pitch announced when they found themselves in a cul de sac with steady trick-or-treater traffic, his own shadow snuffing out every other streetlight along the way. He stopped on part of the pavement while it was unoccupied and pointed, “I need a patch of ice right here, smooth like a mirror.”

“How big?” the Guardian asked, already icing the asphalt, “And I’m gonna have to chill the air, too, or the condensation will ruin the finish. I assume you do not object.”

“Work your artistry however you need to,” was Pitch’s encouragement as he scanned the surrounding area and smirked. Why not go big? “Feel free to make this entire dead end an ice rink. It’ll draw them in like moths to the flame.”

Jack… found himself touched to hear Pitch refer to his element as _art._ Bunnymund certainly never would. Jack himself had never thought of it that way, but that was because Jack thought of it as _himself._ The ice was a part of him and he was a part of the ice, playing around didn’t _feel_ like art, but the idea that Pitch _saw_ it that way…

He cooled the air, first. He didn’t _really_ understand how it all worked, even having sat in on a bunch of college classes about heat physics, but he knew how to _do_ it and that was, in effect, all that mattered. It was _hard_ to form ice that didn’t have imperfections; ice just didn’t want to exist that way. And a super even, super shiny surface was just as difficult.

When it started to feel too much like work, Jack turned his ice on the nearby grass and trees, morphing them into glittering sculptures that reflected the hazy orange, yellow, green, and purple lights from the decorated porches. He probably didn’t make it all happen as quickly as Pitch would have liked, but Jack didn’t _invent_ his element, he merely sculpted it.

Even though there were only hours remaining of Pitch’s beloved holiday, he didn’t have it in him to be _impatient_ with Jack. He would have happily waited as long as it took, captivated by all the ice reflecting festive colors. The children were just as enchanted, migrating towards the unexpected ice to touch and glide and play on. They laughed and spun in circles and chased each other, the idea of marching up to porches for candy taking a momentary back seat.

“ _Beautiful,_ ” came Pitch’s approval as he approached the Guardian from behind, “That’s perfect, Jack. You’re perfect.” He didn’t linger there though. Pitch walked past the frost spirit and made his way to the center of the ice, staring down at his unmarred reflection with the help of the moonlight. He noticed several of the children doing the same…

So he unleashed the first shadow. Just a small amorphous shape of darkness that rapidly zipped from one end of the ice to other like it was frantically trying to escape. The rising cacophony of “What was _that_ ?” “Did you _see_ that?” “There’s something under there!” was to be expected. It only drew more of them on the ice, some of the silly things trying to run after the shadowy spot.

When it seemed like half the neighborhood’s children were gathering onto the ice, some of the brats actively moving _through_ Pitch, he took it the next step further- the amorphous blob grew into a large circle. It appeared to take on the glow of the moon, save for the deep black elongated slit down the center that looked… reptilian. The voices only grew more awestruck, more curious, more _disturbed,_ watching the strange disc continue to bounce around under them.

And then more shadows began to creep in along the edges of the ice patch, long tendrils like spidering veins. Before too much panic could erupt, the Boogeyman went in for the kill; pure darkness came in from two different sides of the whole rink and met in the middle, then opened up again. The ice patch had _blinked._

The shrieking started instantly, little ones _tripping_ over themselves to get off the ‘eye’ of the ‘monster’’ underneath their feet. Who ever said the Boogeyman had to be limited to the _bed_?

It only took five ‘blink’s for the entire cul de sac to clear out.

Jack was laughing so hard by the time he glided over to the Nightmare King that he was finding it impossible to stay upright and looped one arm over Pitch’s shoulder to help, “You and I are dangerous together.”

Pitch’s grin only grew more smug by the second listening to Jack’s laughter, almost as intoxicating as all the fresh _fear_ flowing into him. It was a good night to be the Nightmare King. He felt like if he wanted to, he _could_ take over the world again.

But at the moment, with Jack Frost at his side, Pitch was pretty content with the world the way it was. “I don’t know, I rather think we go together _swimmingly_.”

“Oh God,” Jack groaned, “Was that an awful pun? Stop it.” But the frost spirit only shook his head, smile going nowhere with the natural high that he was feeling, “I _never_ would have thought to do that, Pitch. That was a really creative scare.”

Pitch shrugged, thinking nothing of it, but he did slip a clever arm around Jack’s waist and started leading them off the ice. “Seeing your work inspires me. I don’t usually get to play with elements other than shadows.”

The frost spirit nodded, more than capable of understanding the concept of _new toys._ He looked around as they neared the edge of his asphalt lake and smiled fondly, “This is going to be really pretty in the morning…”

“Would you like to return here at sunrise?” the Boogeyman offered.

Jack appreciated the offer, turning his smile on the Nightmare King beside him, “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just do it again, sometime.”

“You mean,” Pitch sounded appropriately skeptical, “Next Halloween?”

“You plan too far ahead, Pitch,” Jack grinned, “I mean whenever the fuck I want. We have eternity. Besides,” he added with a little shrug, “Halloween would get boring if we did the same tricks every year. Next year deserves a whole new set of scares, don’t you think?”

“Bigger and better ones,” the shadow man agreed, shooing away the small hope he might have had thinking Jack would want to spend another Halloween with him. Who knew where they would be a year from now anyway? “Where would you like to go next? You pick this time.”

The Guardian chewed on his lip while he thought, looking up into the sky as if the moon might give him inspiration. Ha. As if. Manny hadn’t given him anything in a long time.

“I’m not as good at this as you are…” Jack freely admitted, spinning his staff through the fingers of his free hand while they walked together down the now deserted street. Suddenly he stopped, and tilted his head to meet Pitch’s eyes, “But I think I know of a seven-year-old in need of a good scare.”

Jamie would never look at caramel apples the same way again.

Jack was torn between feeling really bad and loving every moment, but the _fun_ that surrounded Pitch easily won him over and the Guardian was laughing all over again as they made their way to the next obvious target: wayward teenagers.

Teenagers were almost _easier_ than children. They tended to be out _looking_ for true scares or trying to sneak their way out of trouble which came already pre-loaded with fear and fun. The pair of spirits were able to mess with at least seven groups who were out ‘ghost-hunting’ within the span of a half-hour, Jack’s little cold spot trick alone freaking them the the fuck out.

Though nothing was quite like the reaction they got when Pitch accidentally ended up in one of the amatuer ghost hunter's _photos_. Luckily it was only his shadow, else the Boogeyman would have been on the warpath, but Jack only saw more opportunity when the camera clicks wouldn't stop coming after that. Some well-timed frost lightning whited-out the background of several shots and when he got bold, Jack pushed up his hoodie sleeves so that a long, thin, pale, disembodied arm could be captured reaching for hair and shoulders in many frames. Jack Frost made for a pretty convincing ghost.

The best part of all was when the naive youngsters started trying to 'communicate' with the dead. With the promise of so much 'activity' going on, one of them whipped out a small recorder with shaking hands, pleading to the air for 'a sign of their presence'.  

Pitch gave them one they'd never forget. His night was made when over the tiny speakers of the recorder came The Noise.

The recorder also picked up Jack's surprised cry of emotional pain as he rushed to cover his ears, but that was alright. The kids would accurately assume Pitch was torturing someone. They didn't need to know it was only auditory.

It was already well past midnight by then, most of the trick-or-treaters home by now either passed out or sorting their bounties. Even the teenager crowd was starting to slowly dissipate, seeking out more terror from the comfort of their couches with a scary movie.

That didn’t mean there weren’t people about, but not many of them were under the age of eighteen. Adults… could be the easiest or the hardest to scare depending on a number of factors. The biggest one on Halloween being _sobriety._

Pitch was up for the challenge, or lack thereof, but got momentarily distracted when they passed by a coffee shop with a pumpkin shaped sign and suddenly _lattes were happening._ Because the Nightmare King decreed it so.

Since floating plastic cups weren’t all that scary, the Boogeyman led them to a park to walk through, sipping their drinks and lunging mini bursts of sand and ice at each other to line the walkways with little sculptures that were oddly engaging and unsettling at the same time. Their own little enchanted forest of cold and dark.

Pitch couldn’t remember another Halloween that he enjoyed _this_ much.

Jack was still riding a high that seemed never-ending. Pitch’s sense of fun had been shifted into high gear and his excitement was so fucking _potent_ that Jack felt a little drunk off of it. Usually when things calmed down, when everything went from screams and laughter to quiet smiles and low conversation, the _fun_ likewise ebbed. But Pitch’s wasn’t ebbing. He was having just as much the time of his life tossing sand at Jack as he had been chasing children with giant shadow spiders.

Jack didn’t understand. It would probably take him _days_ to work it out, especially with his own feelings jumbling the mess inside his head. But he was loving it, every second of it, every time they did something new and the Nightmare King’s enjoyment found new heights. It was such a _pure_ feeling, and Jack couldn’t get enough.

Once he felt the park was _adequately_ decorated, Pitch downed the rest of his latte and tossed away the evidence, a determined look set in his silvery-gold eyes. He felt the urge to do something bigger, something that would make Jack light up for him even _more._ So much fear, perfectly complimented with so much _fun_ had Pitch a little drunk on the feeling too. He felt _good_ instead of power-hungry, invincible without a drive for glory and revenge. He just wanted the night to _last._

It wasn’t over yet. Chuckling, Pitch threw his arms around Jack’s shoulders from behind and murmured darkly near his ear, “Now, Jack, let’s do something _really_ scary…”

He dragged the frost spirit into the shadows, transporting them to another town.

There was clearly one house that was the life of the town at such a late hour, a large mansion that was packed with cars and booming with bass. The decorations weren’t the best Pitch had ever seen, _obviously,_ but at least the mortals had _tried_ to give it a Halloween theme, instead of the excuse it was to drink, and dress up, and bump, and grind, and Gods knew what else.

It was a perfect target.

Pitch brought them to the front steps of the massive house and finally let Jack go. “Alright, now I want you to freeze all the entry ways shut. Every door. Every window. Can you do that for me?”

“Of course,” Although Jack was wondering, with Pitch’s smile so dark, if he was going to regret helping with this one. He chose to have faith; something most spirits dearly lacked, and began with the upper floors so that the seal would go unnoticed until the majority of the house was already covered.

Jack had more than half of the second floor iced when an unexpected presence made itself known. Cupid came flying out of the mansion and before Jack knew it, the so-called God of Love was chasing him from window to window demanding to know what they thought they were doing.

It did not help that Jack didn’t know what he was doing.

So the spirit turned on Pitch with a small rant about how he’d been following this couple for _months_ and if they screwed up this fine opportunity for him, he would find a way to make them sorry they had. So obviously the best thing for both of them to do would be _cooperate with Cupid._

It was a good rant. Jack was impressed. And the bottom floor was sealed.

“All done, Pitch! What now?”

“ _Now_ ,” the Boogeyman began, holding out a dramatic hand with his eyes fixed on Seifer, “We set a _mood_.”

Those long fingers snapped and it was immediately followed by a distant zapping noise as well as a single spark before the entire house went black. Booming bass was overtaken with raised voices of confusion, frustration, and disappointment. Only a small touch of fear, but Pitch was a patient spirit.

He’d wait for them to fiddle with the lights of their phones and flashlights and candles for a while to let to situation sink in. And in the meantime, he found a less populated window on the side of the house and began clawing ‘GET OUT’ backwards over and over again on the frosted glass. At the next window, the claw marks didn’t look like more than desperate scratchings and hand prints. The next one featured an ancient rune that looked appropriately cult-ish, and his last piece of artistry he scratched out _just_ enough to make it look like a demonic face with bared teeth and hollowed out eyes…

“Is she in his lap yet?”

Seifer was trying very hard to look stern and unimpressed. It was hard. The Nightmare King was awfully good at putting on a show, and Halloween night was always his best performance, but _Seifer_ had a job to do, too.

A job he was good at, and so he couldn’t possibly miss the way Pitch was practically prancing about like a show horse, preening and displaying like a tropical bird’s mating dance. He hoped Jack was watching, because it was _all_ for him.

Seifer wondered if they were together, yet.

“She’s not that kind of girl,” Seifer grumbled, glaring through the window because this would have been easier if she _were._ Instead she was looking about, trying to rationalize the situation, while the guy that was perfect for her did a good job of panicking below the surface and trying to act macho about protecting her, which she secretly thought was cute but only ever said she didn’t need. They were _impossible._ Impossible but _perfect._

“What kind of girl is she, then? What do you need?” Jack asked, gliding through the air to hover beside Cupid. He wasn’t helping because of the rant. Jack was helping because Jack was a good person, deep down. But if Seifer wanted to _think_ Jack was helping only because he was threatened, the frost spirit was okay with that.

_“Oblivious,”_ Seifer yelled, since no one in the house could hear him anyway, “He’s been trying to impress her since forever and she’s been impressed since forever but she doesn’t realize he’s _doing it for her_ so she thinks it’s tacky to mention it. _He_ doesn’t want to seem threatening to her sense of independence so he’s waiting for _the right time_ to say anything but fuck, that time is _never going to come!”_

“I’m surprised you haven’t stabbed them into a bloody pulp yet,” came the Nightmare King’s offhanded, morbid comment, though his voice had no conviction. He was _busy._ Pitch had teleported to the roof via the shadow of the chimney and was now summoning a _massive_ amount of black sand. There was enough to cover the entire roof and then some, which is when it started to ooze over the edges, dripping down over every window and door so from the inside it looked like it was raining. Except the rain was thick, and slow, and _black_ and almost seemed like it was alive.

It earned him a few screams and the sense of foreboding terror all but _exploded_.

And that gave Pitch just the boost he needed to conjure up his familiar scythe. It’d been _too long_ since he last used it, and he could think of no better way to celebrate their reunion than to drag the pointed edge around the perimeter of the house so it made an _awful_ screeching noise that chilled to the bone.

Jack stared in awe. Pitch really was the master of freaking people the fuck out.

“That would defeat the purpose,” Seifer argued, taking the whole terrifying experience in stride. He was used to it. “You don’t spread love with murder.”

Jack just managed to turn his head and look at Cupid, “So, that whole, ‘I’d murder someone for you’...?”

“That’s…” Seifer hesitated, then glared, “Stop it.”

Jack grinned.

Pitch smirked too. There was a _reason_ he liked Frost so much. ...Too much.

Once he made his rounds and not a single soul in the house _hadn’t_ had some sort of outburst, a scream or otherwise, Pitch made his way to the roof again. Just like before, he snapped his fingers and the lights flickered. It was only a flicker though, something to explain why every TV and radio in this house switched on with near deafening static.

“You seem particularly on edge about these two. Are they really stressing you out that much?” Seifer, while he did take his work seriously, was usually more easygoing than this, and it made Pitch question the cherub. The only reason for anyone to be stressed on Halloween was _fear_ , and he definitely wasn’t sensing any of that from the blond.

Cupid was quiet for a long moment, obviously considering whether he should say anything, then gave in with a sigh, “You remember Squall, right? I’ve been trying to get him to marry me. He’s being uncooperative. The couple is aggravating, sure, but if I could give it my full attention, I’m sure I would have nailed this already. Squall’s been taking up most of my time and making me feel guilty for the bit I work and _that’s_ stressing me out.”

Pitch made a thoughtful noise while he wandered back to the window with the demon face. He’d yet to meet this ‘Squall’ but he sounded awfully high maintenance for someone who was now  without a soul. “Perhaps he needs a good snowball to the face.”

“I’m game,” Jack immediately chirped.

Seifer rolled his eyes, “I think he would sink literally every ship around the island for that. And have a grand time doing it.”

Jack stared for several seconds, then, “He must be great at parties.”

“Sounds like he and I might get along,” Pitch chuckled, watching intently for any movement through the frost, “We’re invited to the ceremony, aren’t we?”

Seifer shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but smiled in a way that said it mattered a lot, “I haven’t really thought through the particulars yet, still working on a willing bride you see, but hey, wanna be the best man? I’m gonna need a wedding party, right?”

Pitch’s attention was finally diverted back to the God of Love looking honestly surprised. To hear Seifer offer that title to _him_ of all people… “I’d be honored,” he answered with an uncharacteristically warm smile, “But are you certain you want the _Nightmare King_ planning your bachelor party?” Pitch pointed to the window, “This is more or less what happens when I’m in charge of a party.”

Cupid laughed and shook his head, “I’m courting an undine. I need to have the tamest bachelor party in the history of bachelor parties.” All the same, he still turned to Jack and stage whispered, “You’ll keep him in line and make sure it’s a fun night, right?”

But Jack was still back at how the Boogeyman had just been made best man at Cupid’s wedding. He had no idea they were that close. Well, maybe he had _an_ idea. Pitch hadn’t tried to hide that he and Seifer had learned swing dance together. In that moment, Jack realized there was a whole history between them that he had never heard, probably couldn’t imagine.

It was hard, sometimes, being the youngest spirit on the block.

“Of course,” He answered on auto-pilot, hoping Seifer wouldn’t have noticed his hiccup and the jealousy that followed. Pitch was Seifer’s best friend. You didn’t offer the best man position to just anyone. Jack… _wished_ he was someone’s best friend. Wished someone could be that close to him, but the Guardian really only had an extensive network of acquaintances that cared about his general well being. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, it was just... that everyone else had been around each other for so much longer than he had.

“I don’t know, Seifer, he’s let me get away with an awful lot tonight,” Pitch’s smile had turned to Jack, the very reason he was _able_ to smile so freely, and clearly unaware of the Guardian’s shift in mood. He didn’t have time to study it, because he caught something out of the corner of his eye and looked back at the window. “Oh, I think that might be them. Come here, Jack,” he gestured with a wave of his hand, “Quickly, quickly.”

Shaking out of his thoughts, Jack zipped over to where the Nightmare King was looking so eagerly through a window, “What am I looking for?”

And not to be left out, Seifer followed right on his heels, “If he’s _that_ excited, it _can’t_ be good.”

“I need you to do more than _look_ , dear boy,” the Boogeyman grinned, “I’ve seen you bring your drawings to life before. Do you think you could do the same for _mine_? I have an idea…”

“I _know_ I can,” Jack said with confidence, moving up to the window to get a better look at what he was going to create, following it up with a muttered explanation, “My power seems to come with a necessity invention button or something.”

Letting go of his staff, Jack allowed it to fall toward the other waiting hand while the first pressed to the glass, close to Pitch and close to the demon drawing, where he channeled his magic to lift it from the 2-D surface.

Before the drawing could get too far away, Pitch suddenly reached over and placed his hand flat against the back of Jack’s. His skin was so cool to the touch, so _soft_ , but he would have to admire later. The shade began channeling some of his own powers, through Jack, to the drawing, where he could help sculpt its appearance with snapping teeth and elongated claws. The creature was a _beautiful_ combination of black and white and Pitch guided the ferocious thing to dart forward, right towards the couple that was distressing Seifer.

The male tripped over himself trying to protect the girl and they’d ended up in an intimate heap on the floor as a result of the scramble. Pitch’s creature got a few more screams from the others that were around before reaching its final destination, the TV at the end of the corridor. It was the last thing Pitch could actually _see_ through the window, so the creature disappeared through the glowing screen of static and left behind a haunting imprint over the glass. Only this time, with the light behind it, it appeared as if that demon face was _moving_.

But the couple on the floor were appropriately lost in their own little world that did not include the horrors of Jack and Pitch’s demon.

“I didn’t know we could do that,” Jack finally said when he was done staring in amazement at the _thing_ he had helped create, then he shrugged, “What did I tell you? Necessity invention button.”

“I honestly didn’t know if it would work,” Pitch admitted, definitely _not_ taking his hand away just yet even though it was entirely unnecessary at this point, “Are you sold on the cold and dark thing yet?”

Jack snorted, “Fuck, Pitch, I was sold on _that_ In Antarctica.”

Seifer was torn.

On one hand, his couple was awkwardly untangling itself, being overly helpful to each other and in the process hindering every effort to part. It was the stuff of rom coms and exactly the kind of thing Seifer was looking for, but on the _other…_

Jack Frost and the Boogeyman were holding hands against frosted glass discussing how great they were, _together._

Cupid was understandably overwhelmed.

He had two _perfect_ couples right in front of him being sweetly romantic in their own ways. It made him feel warm, and light, and _proud,_ and he hadn’t even done anything to make it happen.

Which reminded him.

“So, is this what date night looks like with you two?”

Pitch dropped his hand in an instant. Whether or not it was because he felt like he’d been ‘caught’, he’d never tell, but he did scoff at the question. This wasn’t just _any_ night of the year. “Who’s _dating_? This is what Halloween with an accomplice looks like.”

Seifer rolled his eyes. What a stupid thing to say. “It’s not like you _stop_ dating because it’s a holiday. In fact, I would argue that’s what dating _is._ Life _with an accomplice.”_

Jack kind of liked the sound of that, but he wasn’t sure his opinion mattered. Besides, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling right now, anyway. They _weren’t_ dating, but it didn’t feel good that Pitch was talking like dating Jack would be a waste of his time. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ them to be dating, per se, he was quite enjoying just hanging out, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear the possibility of romance with him scoffed at.

Without realizing, his fingers had curled, pressing harder against the glass. He pulled them away before he accidentally broke something.

“That’s very… romantic and all,” Pitch was brushing off the topic a little _too_ quickly, but it would have been foolish to let his thoughts wander in that direction and imagine what could be, “but I think you’re confusing us with your little caged love-birds in there. Besides, what makes you think Jack would settle for a notorious, old shadow man like me?” The Nightmare King smirked at no one in particular as he began walking towards a different window as if to survey his ‘damage’.

It was Seifer’s specialty, so he noticed immediately when Jack’s inner conflict began. Pitch, however, was oblivious. “Out of long held respect for you, I’ll be frank,” Seifer said with a hand pressed to his chest in mock-earnest, “You’re being an idiot.”

Jack snorted with surprised laughter. He had not seen that coming, and it shocked him out of his melancholy neutrality.

The blond continued, “You seriously just tried to school _Cupid_ in matchmaking. I _never_ confuse one couple with another. Love doesn’t work like that, Boogeyman, but even more, _Jack_ doesn’t work like that. If you think _notorious_ is a turn off for him, you’re fucking _blind._ But that doesn’t even matter. If Jack’s happy, then Jack’s happy, and who are you to judge what he finds happiness in?”

“Yeah, Pitch,” The Guardian chimed in, because why shouldn’t he? It was _about him,_ “Don’t judge.”

Long fingers ran frustratedly through feathery black hair. Now they were teaming up on him? Because Seifer was looking too far into all the fun they were having? Pitch didn’t like it. He felt defensive, like they were needling at something that both was and _wasn’t_ their business. It was _Halloween._ Things weren’t supposed to get complicated with emotions he didn’t understand.

Or ones he was afraid of.

“ _Fine_ ,” Pitch relented, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, no trace of a smirk or smile on his lips any longer when he turned back to the frost sprite, “So then, Jack. Are we dating?”

Cupid _narrowly_ resisted groaning. The Nightmare King was terribly unromantic when he wanted to be.

Jack took it pretty well. He stared, blinked, looked Pitch over, glanced at Seifer, then met those molten eyes once more. He had to admit, when he thought about the possibility of having a partner in his three hundred years on this planet, he sort of imagined the moment when he was asked out to, you know, actually involve being asked out. This felt rather more like a challenge. Or an attack. An unromantic dating attack. God, Pitch was awful at this, wasn’t he? And for the first time in _hours,_ he wasn’t having fun anymore.

“I figure that’s the kind of thing that should be discussed when we _aren’t_ being stared down by the God of Love,” Jack finally replied, giving just the barest shrug of his shoulders a moment later, “But that wasn’t the point. The point was that it isn’t up to you whether I want to date you. What I do or don’t want for my eternal life is entirely up to _me.”_

“Oh bloody Hell, I merely voiced an _opinion_ on the matter,” there went the defensive tone, complete with golden glare and exasperated hand gestures, “I am very aware that it’s up to you, and it would not be my place nor even within my _power_ to stop you. There’s nothing left to discuss.”

Jack nodded solemnly, as if Pitch _wasn’t_ just having a tantrum a few feet away, “Exactly, so if I find you attractive, you just get to deal with it.” As if it was still an _if._

“Right,” Pitch chuckled dryly, shaking his head. He didn’t believe it was a matter of _if_ either, but unknowingly not in the same way as the Guardian, “I’ll make sure I’m _well_ prepared should that be the case.”

Seifer was surprised when the Guardian of Fun shared a look with Cupid that clearly said he knew Pitch was still being stupid. It would have given Seifer some hope for their situation if he didn’t know Jack felt the same way about Pitch. Well, not the _same._ Jack didn’t think he wasn’t _worthy_ of Pitch’s affection, just assumed he didn’t _have_ it. Which was pretty stupid, too, given how the Boogeyman behaved around him, but these things were always easier to see from the outside.

“You do that,” The winter spirit approved, stepping up to the Nightmare King to reclose the distance. He took Pitch’s hand and pulled the shadowman’s arm over his shoulders, then renewed the frost on the window in front of them, “In the meantime, I think your victims think it’s over.”

Pitch breathed a long, withering sigh, admiring the pretty frost with a tilt of his head. Having Jack close to him again, having Jack initiate and _insist_ they be touching right now, did bring a second of heightened tension just before it all slowly melted away. He knew their fun had taken a serious blow with the unanticipated direction of conversation. It meant something that Jack opted to stay, enough for any aggravation to be forgotten about and in its place, a sad sense of disappointment settled. Why now? Why _tonight_? He would have happily flipped his shit over this discussion tomorrow…

But he didn’t feel angry. He looked on at the window frowning. …..Okay, maybe pouting at this point. “It may be. My perfect mood’s been broken…”

It had. Jack wasn’t looking at the window; his head was tilted back, almost resting on Pitch’s shoulder, to look up at the sad spirit. He squeezed Pitch’s fingers, disappointed that he had taken part in destroying such a wonderful mood, but knowing that it was his job, his _gift,_ to bring those kind of moods back.

He tried to think like Pitch. What would Pitch do if he was still keen on doing it? Jack turned back to the window and rested the top of his staff against it, then focused on being… _creative._

“Good thing you’re with me then, right?” Jack asked as he condensed the moisture inside the room, only in certain human-shaped spaces, into a gentle mist then dissipated it, so it looked like a ghost might be teleporting around the room. Jack really was best at the ghost story angle. He then kicked up an angry wind around the ceiling, rattling the light fixtures and wall hangings to raise the noise level over the static, before he drowned everything else out with the hellish racket that was hail of varying sizes clattering its way down the hardwood staircases.

….

Pitch was fairly quick to perk up. A jump scare was still a _scare_ and Jack was _marvelous_ with them, he was coming to learn. The jump had the added benefit of being combined with the anxious fear that whatever was out there was _coming back_ and the Boogeyman let those feelings collect within him.

Really, how did Jack know that was just the sort of pick-me-up he needed? He could have kissed the boy.

For more than one reason. But he didn’t.

He did pull the icy spirit closer, smiling, and brushed their heads together briefly before deciding he needed to hop back in on the fun. A large gray hand pressed against the window pouring into the house enough black sand to conjure up another ‘human’ like figure. Only this one was tall and hooded and carrying around a scythe (but not _his_ scythe). And so a little game of cat and mouse began that made Pitch hum appreciatively. “None of this would be possible without you,” he murmured low and soft and _just_ for Jack.

It sent a happy shiver down the frost spirit’s spine, and Jack was smiling back at Pitch before he even registered the change of expression on his face. That was more like it. That was the Pitch Jack liked to see.

...Oh, fuck, maybe he _did_ want them to be dating.

Oops.

Seifer shook his head indulgently and chose to leave before he could ruin the moment. He had an undine to get back to, anyway.

The pair ended up haunting the mansion until they couldn’t anymore, which was to say, until the _police_ arrived. They got the jump on at least _one_ of the officers before moving on.

It was time for a clean slate, and Pitch easily found another bustling party to harass. This one went uninterrupted and orchestrated exactly to the Boogeyman’s standards, including his partner’s added frosty touch. Maybe he still couldn’t make a snowman, but when Jack laid down a few inches of snow inside the house, he’d sculpted a damn disturbing snow _face._ Perfectly smooth and egg-shaped, like a doll or a mannequin with a blank soulless stare until a stream of shadows began pouring out of its eyes and mouth…

They’d lined the whole house with those faces.

Next, they’d attempted to freak out a few carfulls of adventurous, thrill-seeking adults, but it had proven too dangerous after the first one. Pitch wasn’t looking to _kill_ on Halloween no matter how terrifying it was to nearly go careening off a rumored haunted bridge.

So the two of them found themselves in a small suburban neighborhood, already eerily quiet even without the Nightmare King to make it so. To be fair, it _was_ far past three in the morning, and many people were asleep, but to Pitch that was the _witching_ hour. The house he ended up targeting only had one occupant, but he had plans to get enough fear out of her to count for five _minimum._

It was while he was pondering all the _ways_ to do it that Pitch realized he had access to a new tool at his disposal. Oh, he _always_ wanted to try this…

But he needed a little help. “May I borrow your phone for this one, Jack?”

“Good job, Pitch,” Jack praised as he hesitantly fished his new cell phone from his pocket, reminding himself that all of his data was backed up in the cloud and the Nightmare King couldn’t do _that_ much damage to his files, “I am already creeped out.”

Such comments only made Pitch blossom with pride. He grinned with the little device in his hand and looked around the dimly lit kitchen they were standing in. The woman, probably mid-twenties, was in the living room engrossed in a late night TV horror movie, ‘Halloween’ from the looks of the masked killer everyone was running from on screen.

But the important part was that she’d left her phone on the kitchen counter. Pitch picked up that phone too like he had any idea of what to do with it, but was met with his growing adversary once more- the lock screen. Pitch grumbled. “....I need her number. Do you have any idea how to look it up?”

Jack waited a few more seconds, enjoying the grouchy helplessness that was just so damn cute on Pitch, "The yellowpages. Or google; that shit's scary."

“I at least need a name…” Pitch turned the woman’s phone over like it may have been engraved on the back, but he had no such luck, so he started looking around for any marked paper he could find, “Where does one usually keep their yellow pages?”

"The recycling bin," Jack answered immediately, instead checking the top drawers and fridge for hand written notes and contact information. He found plenty of names on junkmail envelopes and stole back his phone to start the internet search, coming up with the address and house phone almost immediately, "There, Pitch, good enough?"

“You are _magical,_ Jackie Boy.” Pitch was clearly pleased. He grabbed the phone and his partner, then pulled them into the shadows to disappear. Seconds later they were in the woman’s, Laura they’d found out, upstairs bedroom.

The thought did cross his mind to hide under the bed, or rather, he had the sudden _impulse,_ but there was really no need for it, so he took a seat on the mattress and patted the spot next to him for Jack. He couldn’t chance having the call on speaker phone without risk of it being heard too soon, so the Guardian was just going to have to sit close enough to hear the conversation. With the phone held between their ears, Pitch dialed the number and waited…

_“Hello?”_ came the female voice. The Boogeyman was _almost_ too excited to answer. He’d never been able to properly do the phone prank thing before.

“Happy Halloween, _Laura_ ,” Pitch greeted, silky and smooth before it trailed off into an evil sounding cackle.

“ _W-who is this? Is that you Jason? A little fucking late for pranks.”_

“You may think of me as your own personal _Boogeyman,_ Laura. I want to make sure you’re _properly_ put to bed tonight…”

_“...Excuse me?”_ A sane person would have probably hung up by now. A sane person would have also felt a little more fear, but Pitch pressed on.

“Did you enjoy your evening? Wrapping up with a movie perhaps? I believe ‘Halloween’ is on right now,” Pitch snapped his long gray fingers and suddenly everything went black again, “But then, maybe it’s not…”

_“Shit! Oh my God, did the power just go out for you too?”_ Predictably, there was some rustling on the other end of the line.

“It did. _Just_ for me. I’m quite at home in the dark, Laura.”

_“Well I’m not. Hang on, I need to find a flashlight…”_

...Hang on? _Hang on?_ Firstly, one did not put the _Nightmare King_ on hold, and secondly, putting one on hold implied wanting to _carry on_ a conversation, did it not? Pitch looked confused. Was he doing this right? Had he called the right number?

….Well. She was still on the line at least. As long as that was the case, he wouldn’t give up the act.

“Sweet girl, you think a flashlight can help you?”

But it was like she hadn’t heard him. _“Okay got it, I’m going to check the breakers. ….What part of England are you from, Mister Boogeyman?”_

…..

What?

There was an obvious hesitation while Pitch tried to come up with an answer. A _scary_ , or at least creepy one.

“I am from everywhere and _nowhere._ Where I’m from means _nothing_ compared to where I _am_ …”

_“Is that right?”_

“ _Yes._ I’m coming for you, Laura. There’s nowhere in this quaint little house that you can hide.”

Her gasp… didn’t sound like the frightened that Pitch was used to. _“You’re_ here _? Seriously? No way… Where?”_

“Where else would I watch you sleep, Laura? I’m in the bedroom. _Waiting_.”  

_“Oh God, is this_ real _? Wow…..Alright, I’ll be there soon, but keep talking to me, okay? What are you wearing? What are you doing, and don’t leave a single filthy detail out.”_

Pitch’s eyes went comically wide as he stared at the phone.

Jack was dying.

This was it.

His life was over.

It was literally impossible to get air in through the solid wall of laughter.

He had been giggling and snorting for a while, but _this._ The thing about his accent had been great, but **_this._ ** This was amazing. This was a plan gone south. This was everything rolling downhill. This was the Boogeyman being excited about classically scaring someone and it going _all wrong._ This was a creepy situation turned bedroom fantasy.

This was a woman running up the stairs to have sex with Pitch.

Jack was dying.

He was curled up, doubled over, holding his stomach, crying crystalline tears he was laughing so hard. Fuck, she had even asked him _what he was wearing!_ It was _so perfect_ and not at _all_ what Pitch had meant to happen and Jack was dying.

Pitch _did not_ see what was so _funny._

His jaw was still hanging open, dumbfounded between Jack’s hysterics and rewinding the conversation to figure out _where he went wrong._

Apparently he was being too quiet.

“Hey! _Don’t go silent_ now, _sexy, you’ve got me all worked up_ …”

Pitch gave up and ended the call. And then he dragged Jack by his hoodie to the nearest shadow and transported them back to the street where he threw the phone at the spirit having _way_ too much fun.

There was no way Jack was in any position to catch it. He tried, but it just bounced off of his sluggish arms and fell to the concrete. “Don’t-” he tried, then again, “Don’t break-” but it was hopeless, he was laughing too hard. _Sexy._ She called him _sexy._ And he was, sure, but as a _pet name?_ Oh God, Jack was going to have to use that again, sometime.

Pitch rolled his eyes while Jack’s center got the best of him, fuming in his head over another plan thwarted. ….Although, okay, maybe it _was_ kind of funny. Or maybe the Guardian he was with was contagious but he found himself sighing, shaking his head with a resigned sort of smirk on his face. If nothing else, it was a lesson to learn from, but technology certainly wasn’t winning any points from the ancient spirit.

It lost a few more when the phone on the ground suddenly lit up with Laura’s number and Pitch’s face fell again.

Jack had only _just_ gotten a big gulp of air in his lungs when he grabbed for the phone and answered it, “Hey, Laura? ...This is Jack,” Actually having to respond to someone sobered him a bit, and suddenly Jack realized he was going to have to _handle_ this, now that he answered. The Guardian met the Boogeyman’s eyes as he gave the fastest explanation that would turn Laura _off,_ “The boyfriend. Yeah, look, it _was_ a prank. You were supposed to be scared, but oh my God, you were so much better. I’ve _never_ seen a prank turn that fast. You’re amazing. ...No, he’s not in your bedroom, but I mean, feel free to check. In the closet, under the bed; you never know what’s hiding… Haha, I’m serious! I _definitely_ believe in the Boogeyman. ...Yeah, I know, the accent’s pretty great. ...No! It’s legit! I have no idea where he got it from, though.”

Whatever Laura said next, it caused Jack to wink up at Pitch, “I guess you could say that. But hey, we’ve got more calls to make and you’ve got a bed to check under, so maybe we’ll see you around? Have a great night!” And then he hung up.

….

Pitch didn’t even know where to begin with all of this.

Okay maybe he had some idea. Instead of staring at Jack for another confused second, he turned towards Laura’s house and snapped his fingers again to restore the power, _then_ he faced the younger spirit again. Who had given him a saucy little wink and called him his _boyfriend._ What the Hell was going on and why did Jack look so good when he did that and why couldn’t he handle this?

And since when did _Jack_ clean up messes from a plan gone south? Ugh..

It didn’t _kill_ Pitch’s mood, but he did have to re-evaluate it, and then _finally_ he said something. “....Did you just have a friendly conversation with my …’victim’?”

Jack shrugged, “She has my number, Pitch. I had to make nice.”

“....right.”

….And then the seriousness promptly broke as Pitch slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning in part misery, part embarassment, part frustration, “Fuck, I’ve never had a backfire like _that_ before…”

“It was incredible!” Jack agreed, suddenly excited all over again, “What were the odds you’d pick the _one_ person with a British accent/kidnapping combo kink? ...Well, maybe not _one_ person, but surely they’re _rare,_ at least…”

“Not rare _enough_ ,” Pitch let his hand slide through the rest of his hair before he approached Jack, requiring some ‘information’, read _reassurance_ , from his partner in crime, “Is there something to that damn phone I don’t know about, or did I just pick someone outlandishly kinky?”

“No, I…” Jack paused and tilted his head to consider, “I mean, a couple of the things you said might have been a little ambiguous, but only because _she_ wasn’t immediately jumping to the terrifying conclusions she was supposed to. But maybe next time you should _start_ with making her think someone’s after her, and _then_ call from inside the house, so she’s already in the right mind to _be_ afraid of someone in her bedroom. As opposed to, you know, _excited.”_

That ...made enough sense for Pitch to feel like he could reclaim his equilibrium. Obviously he’d just been _too excited_ to play with a new toy that wasn’t even as fun as Jack’s ice. He needed his head back in the game, back to what he _knew,_ because Pitch Black created scares of epic proportions with or without the aid of technology. “Yes, you’re absolutely right,” the shade smiled, ruffling white hair, “I suppose I got too carried away with the idea of having another element to use. Next house will have a _proper_ build-up.”

“Then c’mon, _sexy,”_ Jack grinned and laughed, sidling up under Pitch’s arm and wrapping himself around the Nightmare King’s side, “take us away. And maybe we should look into a burner phone for you.”

Pitch didn’t know what a ‘burner phone’ was, but it seemed unimportant next to the _other_ word Jack had said. Somehow he got the feeling he was never in his eternal life going to live that one down…

So he’d just have to pretend it never happened by outdoing himself with the next scare.

The next house was _much_ more successful. Pitch went all out to make sure the bachelor and his date were properly terrified before even thinking of touching the phone. He looked so proud when he got to use his line about the calls coming from inside the house….

Riding that high, they hit up a few more houses across a couple more time zones, running from the approaching dawn while they had the chance.

Pitch hated to think of it, but he knew they hit their last stop when they finally landed in Hawaii.

But that also meant, it was time to go out with a bang.

It was a personal best in the Boogeyman’s eyes when they had an entire party yacht screaming for their lives as the boat was tormented by nothing less than a black sand _Kraken_ and its frosty spawn _._ He half wondered if it would take the heat off of Seifer’s undine lover if the mortals had a new beast to hunt for a while.

But Pitch was mostly aware of the time slipping out of his fingers.

One last house, a few more ‘ghost photos’, and then they had their fun with some passed out twenty-somethings in a park with the most disturbing wake up calls _ever._ The Nightmare King didn’t think it was possible to pack any more into an already eventful evening and held no regrets when the black of night began to morph to a hazy purple.

Kamui was wide awake now.  

The Nightmare King stole one last little bag of candy corn before he pulled Jack close, relocating them somewhere that the frostling would be more comfortable- the snowy top of a dormant volcano.

The Guardian neglected to move away, in fact leaning closer against Pitch, as he watched the sky change color, looking the kind of beautiful he only ever got to see when North called them with the northern lights. He still would have rather not seen it, yet.

“I don’t want it to be over.”

The sentiment made Pitch smile. Of course it was exactly what he was feeling too, but to have it announced by _anyone_ else… No one loved Halloween more than the Boogeyman, but maybe he’d finally found someone that could love it just as much. To think that someone could be _Jack_ made him feel a strange kind of warmth inside, _giddy_ with a hope that probably would have knocked the kangaroo rabbit on his ass.

“I know,” he murmured barely over the wind, raising his hand to run his fingers through Jack’s hair since the spirit was huddled against him so snugly, “Hands down this has been my favorite Halloween to date.”

Jack’s smile was wide as he looked up at the Boogeyman, “Really? That-” explaining himself in words seemed somehow inadequate. What could he say to the idea that his presence had made Pitch’s favorite night of the year his favorite _ever?_ Jack was proud, but he was also simply, “I’m glad. I’m glad I didn’t mess it up.”

“If anything, you _saved_ it,” Pitch corrected lightly with a little chuckle. That brief, uncomfortable confrontation couldn’t be further from his mind right now. It was this bittersweet moment that mattered and he repaid Jack’s honest feelings with some of his own while their eyes were focused on each other, “Thank you, Jack. For spending this night with me.”

The winter spirit’s smile was sweet, “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Pitch.”

For a bringer of ice, Jack sure knew how to make people _melt._ That may have been the most beautiful smile he’d seen on the Guardian thus far, and Pitch couldn’t have looked away from it if he tried. “Anyone ever tell you how much of a damn flirt you are?”

“I wasn’t flirting, but…” But he was blushing a little bit at the accusation, because it meant Pitch felt flirted with, which meant he felt _something,_ which meant… He grinned and shrugged again, laughing, “Yeah, actually, all the time. Hey, gimme another,” Jack demanded, nudging Pitch and gesturing at the candy corn before tilting his head back and opening his mouth expectantly.

…..A damn fucking flirt indeed.

Pitch might have felt tempted to _do_ something about it other than stand there and be teased, maybe put something _else_ in that sinful mouth, but for now all he was doing was stopping his petting so he could fish out another piece of candy corn. His fingertip might have intentionally grazed down Jack’s bottom lip and chin after he’d deposited the treat in a mild form of retaliation, but he would neither confirm or deny. “So have I converted you? Christmas has _nothing_ on this...”

“It’s true,” Jack hummed his pleasure at the sugar melting on his tongue and nodded, “Christmas is great, but… It has very little to do with me. I make it snow, because people like it to snow on Christmas, and everyone has fun so it isn’t like I feel _bad…_ But I don’t really have to do _anything_ to feel that way, so it’s… pleasantly boring?”

“It’s _mind-numbing._ And yet the Cossack gets a whole _month_ of celebration, if not more.” Yes, Pitch was bitter. _Jealous._ He popped a couple candies in his mouth to prevent him from ranting too much, because he really didn’t feel any venom for it at the moment. Come tomorrow, it would be a different story, but right now…

Right now Pitch was pretty taken with Jack. “You know I… wouldn’t mind if next Halloween was ours too…”

Jack wondered when he was going to stop feeling so giddy and light, “Wouldn’t miss it for _anything.”_ And then he turned around, putting his back to the ending night and gripping Pitch’s sleeve, “Now gimme some more candy corn before you eat it all. How come when you feed me it’s one little piece, but when you feed yourself it’s a whole fucking handful, huh?”

Pitch’s smirk was as guilty as it was unapologetic. Who knew Jack would like his favorite candy enough to be doing the candy _math?_ “You had all the opportunity in the world to snatch a bag of your own, you know,” he teased, but he was holding out two more pieces to Jack’s cool lips.

In true Jack Frost style, the Guardian nipped the candy right out of Pitch’s hand, grazing his fingers with the edges of his teeth.,“Why should I when I know you’ll grab some for me?”

It made his fingers tingle and Pitch _liked_ it. He wondered what playing with this bitey side of Jack would be like… But right now they were too busy taunting, and Pitch kept his golden gaze on Jack when he very knowingly put _three_ more pieces in his own mouth, “I didn’t realize you’d developed such a _taste_ for it, Jackie Boy.”

“Who says no to free candy?” Jack scoffed, making to steal some more kernels for himself, since Pitch wasn’t going to be _fair_ about it, “And candy corn is _especially_ awesome.”

“Mm, it _is_ ,” Pitch agreed, holding a larger _rounder_ piece to Jack’s lips because even if he was ‘unfair’ about it, he didn’t want to give up the chance to feed the frost spirit either, “ _Especially_ when they’re shaped like little pumpkins.”

Jack snickered. “Just _something_ about those tiny little pumpkins,” he said before wrapping his lips around the small ball of sugar and sucking it in with a wet little, ‘pop.’ Fuck good manners; playing with your food was _fun._

Just then, Jack felt the kind of heat that only came from the direct rays of the sun. He checked over his shoulder just to make sure, but turned back almost immediately to throw himself at the Nightmare King, “There’s the sun. Time to take us home, Shadowman.”

“As you wish, Jack.” Pitch caught the Guardian immediately like the precious thing he was and let them fall backwards into their joined shadow. It was kind of amazing how used to this not only Jack was, but he _himself_. Every time they traveled through the shadows, they were somehow tangled together, and it was entirely unnecessary but always pleasant.

Almost as pleasant as Jack referring to the lair as _home._ Pitch clung to that feeling for as long as he was able.

When they landed, Pitch was on his back in his nest of a bed, an affectionate Jack Frost on top of him and it couldn’t have been more perfect. A single gray hand rose up and lightly stroked down the side of Jack’s face, “Are you tired?”

"How dare you imply the Guardian of Fun can't party all-" except Jack's valiant efforts were interrupted by an ill timed yawn and he smacked the Nightmare King in the chest, "Look what you did! I didn't need to yawn until you said the forbidden t-word!"

Pitch’s head threw back against the pillows with a laugh just before he threw all of his weight forward and arranged them in a seated position. With Jack somehow fitting so perfectly in his lap. He could play along for a little while; there was enough fear to fuel him for a good month. “How _evil_ of me. Do I need to shove more candy in your mouth? Or do we need to go back out for lattes?”

Jack giggled helplessly until he suddenly gripped Pitch by both shoulders and earnestly begged, "Whatever you want as long as you keep talking, you sexy, sexy Englishman, you!"

“Oh good _Gods_ ...” Pitch fell forward so he was resting on Jack’s shoulder, a low grumble in his voice because _no,_ he _wasn’t_ going to live that down.

However. The icy imp also wasn’t allowed to win _that_ easily, and he peered up at the boy intrigued, “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Jack?” Pitch leaned in close, his candy-sweet lips nearly, _nearly_ touching a pale ear, “Perhaps Laura isn’t the only one with an accent kink? _Hmm_?”

"I might," Jack confessed, leaning back so he could look bashfully into Pitch's metallic eyes, blush forming and not fighting it. It wasn't like he was _ashamed_ , "Maybe. I mean, it is pretty hot."

Pitch’s teasing came to a screeching halt with that information, blinking owlishly at the boy in his lap as if Jack had just shared with him some ancient wisdom that was the key to world domination. He couldn’t possibly be _serious_ but that adorable blush made him want to believe it so badly.

The Boogeyman had only one thing to say, “....Don’t tell me I could have had you eating out of the palm of my hand back in Antarctica if I would have dropped to one knee and _serenaded_ you into it.”

"Oh my God, no, but I wish you had tried!" Jack cried, laughing through his words. He didn't really need the, 'on one knee,' thing, but Pitch singing was always good. Chances are, back in Antarctica, he would have been very confused. Thrilled, scared, a bit charmed, but _very_ confused.

Pitch was understandably disappointed, but it was the proof he needed that Jack was likely just fucking with him anyway. He smiled despite it all, golden eyes glittering with amusement, “I’ll keep that in my back pocket in case I desperately need to persuade you sometime in the future.”

“Add candy corn to increase your chances and make sure the plan does not involve erasing smiles from the faces of children all over the world, and you should be good,” Jack nodded solemnly.

“Oh don’t worry, Jack. I’m sure I’ll come up with something _far_ more devious in no time,” the Nightmare King winked, “Good to know I can count on you.”

“As long as I get to have fun,” Jack grinned.

“I would never deny you that.”

“Really? _Never?”_ Jack asked with a heavy dose of playful skepticism, eyeing Pitch sideways, simultaneously leaning back and pushing Pitch away to put a couple of feet between their chests, but not, incidentally, their hips, “Because I distinctly remember a time when you broke my staff and left me to rot and that wasn’t fun at all.”

….Did Jack really want to go down that path? Pitch was looking just as skeptical, leaning back on his long arms propped up against the cushions. “That’s why it’s better to work _with_ me than against me. If you’re against me, you shouldn’t be surprised if I make your life a living Hell.”

“Because you’re the Boogeyman?”

“A vindictive bastard of one too.”

“Stop it!” Jack laughed, leaning back in to nudge Pitch’s shoulder just hard enough to move him, “You talk the talk, but you’re really just a big softie who wants love and cuddles. Don’t lie!”

“How dare you!” Pitch lightly shoved the frost sprite back in mild offense. Yes, he got affectionate here and there but _fuck,_ he wasn’t _that_ pathetic! “I would be a _terrible_ Boogeyman if that were the case, and how can you imply that after tonight?”

Shaking his head and pushing back again, the Guardian argued, “Just because you scared the shit out of several hundred people tonight doesn’t mean you don’t want love and cuddles!”

Pitch pressed the flat of his palm against Jack’s forehead for his push back, “The Boogeyman has no need for love and cuddles. He will, however, not turn them away should the conditions at the given time and place be acceptable.”

“Oh, so you only snuggled Fuuma’s face while you shared ice cream because _the right conditions were met,”_ Jack challenged, ducking out from under that hand and poking Pitch in the ribs for it.

Pitch’s breath hitched for a second before he jerked away from Frost’s very _forward_ touch and retaliated with a poke to his stomach. And a devilish smirk. “He had _pumpkin ice cream._ The conditions were perfect.”

Jack slid back in Pitch’s lap trying to get away from that finger, but quickly righted himself and came back with both hands on the Nightmare King’s shoulders again, “What about _now,_ huh? I don’t have _any_ pumpkin ice cream.”

Pitch honestly wondered what it was Jack was after with all of this, but he indulged the young spirit anyway. ...Well, he would have indulged him _more_ by maybe wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist, but since he was being called out on every touch, they remained behind him. “It’s _Halloween,_ Jack. The Boogeyman is in an extremely good mood, so yes, the conditions are right.”

The Guardian of Fun was shaking his head in mild disbelief. Was Pitch serious? “You’re being ridiculous.”

The whole conversation was ridiculous, and _not_ his idea might he add, but Pitch shrugged his shoulders that were carrying the weight of Jack’s cool fingers with a grin. “Are you having _fun_ , Jackie Boy?”

Jack was quiet for several seconds before he gave a lopsided smile, “Weirdy, I am.”

“Then cease your silly questions and _enjoy it_.”

The Guardian seemed to consider these words _very_ carefully, silently sizing Pitch up with his eyes. Eventually he shrugged, “Well, okay,” and threw his whole body at the Nightmare King in a surprise cuddle attack.

Caught off guard, the Nightmare King made a _terribly_ undignified squawking noise as he was slammed back into the plush bedding. Pitch had never been _attacked_ with affection before- he was nearly at a loss how to handle it.

He couldn’t rightly say he minded though. When was the last time anyone _persisted_ in being this close to the shadow man, just happy to have him _here?_ It reminded him of just how lonely Jack must have felt for him to be latching on so tightly.

But Pitch could sense that the greedy brat was in the mood to _play_ , even after all the fun they’d had during the night, and he refused to be the reason that smile faltered so he let Jack have his cling for about five more seconds before he rolled them over, _twice_ , and landed on top wearing a smug little smirk.

It was a little awkward and Jack wasn’t sure where to put his hands, but they ended up gripping Pitch’s robes as tightly as they could through the rolling, which was a new experience for him. Rolling around with kids was just _different_ from rolling underneath another _adult._

Not the least of which because of what it did to his nether regions.

He was laughing though, because that sound that came out of Pitch had been _amazing_ and Jack hoped to never forget it. Much like the rest of this night. This very possibly could have been the best night of Jack’s long life and ending it with a war of affection seemed terribly appropriate; inevitable, in hindsight.

It took some aggressive squirming, but the frost spirit did manage to get his legs out from under the Boogeyman’s weight and only after many failed attempts to use them to flip Pitch back over did he wrap them securely about the Nightmare King’s waist. If he couldn’t take the lead, at least he could control the race from second place.

And learn a little something about the both of them in the process.

With one of his own mischievous smirks in place, Jack slid one hand up behind Pitch’s neck and gripped the collar of those dark robes with the other, yanking the Boogeyman down onto his chest and into his lips.

_Fuck,_ Pitch tasted sweet…

It was hard to tell whether it had only been a surprise tactic, a happy accident, or passionate intent, but Pitch physically could not bring himself to care. Of course he was shocked, of course this was probably a terrible idea that he was going to brood over the next day, but he’d been accused of being an idiot a little too frequently as of late and he wasn’t going to do it to _himself_  by passing up the opportunity to kiss Jack Frost.

He’d been thinking about it for too damn long.

The first touch sent a chilly little shiver down the length of his spine. Those lips were just as cool as he imagined them to be, but so much softer, and much more _willing._ Pitch hummed a happy little note as he fell into them, one hand at a slim waist and the other cradling the side of Jack’s gorgeous face.

Pitch forced himself to remain calm and gentle even though his heart was pounding against his ribcage. Fuck, it’d been _thousands_ of years since he felt like this. Or had he ever truly felt like _this?_ Longing for touch and companionship was one thing, but to crave it specifically from a single person...

He brushed his lips softly over Jack’s, over and over again, until he couldn’t take it and had to go in for a _taste,_ licking at the corner of his mouth.

In the span of moments, the entire night replayed in Jack’s mind, and it felt like one grand set up. They were always affectionate; they always sat close and they didn’t shy away from touch, but something had shifted and the click of it securing into place sounded an awful lot like Cupid’s rant about a couple spending months trying to impress each other without realizing the other had been noticing the _whole time._

Jack was shivering over and over again, the gentle sensations sparking shocks of pleasure at the base of his spine. He couldn’t remember feeling anything like that, before. Tickling was kind of close, but different in a way that he was too distracted to work out right now. He squirmed just the same though, pushing his body up against Pitch’s as if the pressure might make it… _better._

Pitch’s hand felt warm against his cheek, its presence stifling in a breathtaking way. He gasped, having honestly forgotten to breathe, but learned quickly and immediately after he felt Pitch’s tongue on his lips, reached out with his own to feel what that was like.

So this was kissing.

It was only the _beginning_ if Pitch was allowed to have his way.

His wicked, wicked way… Fuck, having Jack writhing around like that underneath him was going to _undo_ him if he wasn’t careful. And he _needed_ to be careful so that he could personally show the Guardian the finer points of kissing. He was doing so good already…

Cautiously, Pitch laid himself flush against Jack hoping to soothe some of that urgency, his thumb stroking back and forth over the boy’s hip where he’d managed to slip underneath the hoodie. Their bodies seemed to fit so naturally together, cold and dark entwined, and Pitch almost wished he had a mirror to witness the moment.

Although most of his attention was on a curious little tongue introducing itself to his own. Amazing how even _that_ felt chilled, or really, it just felt _amazing._ The King of Nightmares chased that slick muscle back to where it came from and he _moaned_ when he breached his way into Jack’s mouth that tasted sweet and vaguely minty and all kinds of something he could see himself addicted to.

Jack made an undignified sound of his own when it happened, backing his tongue into his mouth and wondering what he was supposed to do with it now. Chasing Pitch’s around was pretty fun, but he was getting worse and worse at it as the Nightmare King slowly turned him to jelly. Being crushed by another’s weight was not supposed to feel this great, but all Jack found himself doing about it was clinging to Pitch’s sides and pulling him down further.

Pitch tasted like… like candy corn. And Jack giggled between their lips when he realized that was actually kind of a turn on. He squirmed purposefully then, rubbing himself against Pitch and paying attention to what that _felt_ like. He was… solid, but soft, heavy, and an oddly comforting lukewarm temperature. He was warm to _Jack,_ but he didn’t make Jack _warmer,_ and the frost spirit was wholly fascinated by this for at least a minute, running one hand over the Boogeyman’s back, sides, and chest as if feeling more of him would make it make sense.

Pitch would have _loved_ it if they weren’t wearing clothes right now. To feel those icy fingers dancing along his bare skin with that same enchanted fervor… Just the thought made the goosebumps worse than they already were _._ It’d been _way_ too long.

He wanted it. He wanted to feel that, to feel _Jack._ It didn’t matter if the frost sprite had no idea what he was doing, Pitch would gladly teach him everything he needed to know.

But Jack’s first time should be decided by _Jack._ It deserved more thought and care than the end result of hormones and coming off a _fantastic_ high of fear and fun. That didn’t mean they needed to stop, but Pitch did have to pause here and there trying to keep himself under control. Which _absolutely_ wasn’t fair with Jack rubbing up into him like that, fucking Hell…

The Boogeyman withdrew his lips with a wet noise, and ever so lightly grazed his teeth over Jack’s bottom one when his molten gaze met an icy one. “Oh Jack…” he purred in a soft bedroom tone, “What have we gotten ourselves into…”

Pitch didn’t expect or wait for an answer, because immediately following, he was dotting that beautifully pale skin with kisses along Jack’s jaw line.

Obediently, Jack was tilting his head to the side so Pitch could keep doing that. It wasn’t as intense as a tongue in his mouth, but it felt nice in its own way, kind of tingly and… and Jack wanted everything that Pitch would give him, he decided right then.

At which point Jack realized he had no idea where this was going.

“I think it’s called a relationship,” The Guardian quipped, somehow holding onto enough wit for that. His insides might be melting, but his instincts were still sharp, apparently. “Or wait, is this dating? What base are we on?”

That had the Nightmare King laughing right before he placed the first kiss on Jack’s neck. His skin still had that wonderful undertone of mint and it made him want to lick the boy all over from head to toe.

What a night to have the embers of nearly forgotten lust rekindled.

Nosing affectionately at Jack’s ear, Pitch crept his fingers across the bare abdomen he already had access too, marveling at how thin he was for such a powerful spirit. “If I get your shirt off, I think third. Plan on bragging about it with the popular crowd at lunch time too?”

Jack took that as an invitation and started working the hoodie up his chest. If Pitch wanted it off, Jack was nothing but excited to see what he’d do with that. Still, he had to play. “If you gimme a hickey, mom is gonna be _so_ upset,” He said in a whiney tone, trying to sound as juvenile as his voice would let him, but then he snorted laughter, “And by, ‘mom,’ I mean Bunny.”

Pitch would have been extremely amused by that, but he was transfixed on the skin slowly being exposed. For _him._ Oh stars…

He swallowed thickly, took a deep breath through his nose, and reluctantly put a hand over Jack’s to make him stop. There would be time for that later, _if_ Jack stuck around. “Let’s take this slow, alright?” Pitch hated to sound serious in their playful moment, but he had to be honest, “It’s...I can’t-- Or rather…. It’s too much of a temptation.”

Jack could admit he was confused, but he didn’t let it bother him. If Pitch wanted the hoodie _on,_ then Jack was perfectly okay with that, too. Just because Jack was the virgin didn’t mean he was the only one who mattered, here.

“Sure, whatever you want, Pitch,” the winter spirit conceded softly, pulling the fabric back down and letting go of it to wrap his arms around the Nightmare King’s shoulders instead. “I just-... I’m really liking this,” he shrugged, smiling apologetically, “and I’ve always been the type to jump in with both feet. It’s alright to slow me down. Just don’t make me stop, okay?”

Pitch was relieved that Jack hadn’t taken that the wrong way, that he was willing to _listen_ to him for once, and smiled fondly at the winter spirit. ...Not that it wasn’t kind of killing him physically to _not_ have all that skin to taste and touch and explore. He leaned down for a quick kiss, and Gods, could this really be a regular thing between them now? What had he done to deserve this?

“Don’t worry, we’re not stopping, Jack,” Pitch reassured before he was back at the Guardian’s neck, lips pressed just under the corner of his jaw, “I’ll still give you a hickey for Bunny to see.”

"I, uh," Jack tried to say what was on his mind, except now the only thing on his mind was how those lips felt pressed against his skin. ...And that tongue. "I've never had one, before. That I remember."

“Hmm,” Hell, as if Pitch needed more reasons to want to mark up this beautiful spirit. To know that he would forever be the first was turning him on like nothing had before, and he shifted his hips as if it would offer any sort of relief. “If you want me to stop at anytime, just say so.” Hickeys _could_ be painful, after all, but Pitch was determined to make his the very opposite. ….Unless of course, Jack liked a little pain but oh shit no, he shouldn’t be thinking about that if he didn’t want to get any _harder_.

Being left to his own thoughts was getting dangerous, so it was time for action. Pitch picked his spot, licked a hard line over it and gently began to nibble.

He would have nodded if Jack weren't so focused on that tiny little bit of skin, "I'll let you know if I feel uncomfortable." He didn't want to miss a second of it. He wanted to know how this felt from beginning to end, whatever it felt like. Tingles, tickles, sparks, shocks, pleasure, pain, he just wanted to _know_ …

Perhaps Jack _should_ have felt uncomfortable, you know, making out with the _Boogeyman_ , sworn enemy of the Guardians and all, but Pitch was rather fond of that rebellious side of the snowy imp. Jack was completely pliant below him, waiting for… the new experience. Because that was what Jack was all about.

Pitch wondered if he’d have to work a little longer for this hickey with Jack’s blood moving so slow. He gladly accepted the challenge. Bites were alternated with more licks as he worked a hand up the opposite side of boy’s neck, cradling the back of his head so he could help guide it further against the pillows. The shadowman made sure to help himself to a nice eyeful of that delicious looking flesh before his lips locked down and he began to suck.

Jack made a valiant effort, honestly, but there was _no way_ he could stay still with _that_ kind of sensation running through him. It wasn’t overwhelming or anything, it was just… _very_ unique. It was strange, _really_ strange, the feeling of having your skin sucked up between a pair of lips, but it was _good._ Incredibly good. And it made his entire lower half convulsively tighten around Pitch’s waist and buck, all instinct and no plan.

He wasn’t sure what the proper procedure was when you verbally agreed on a deal to make and get a hickey, since, by his research, that wasn’t how this usually happened, but it felt right to let Pitch know how he was feeling. If only he could put together a sentence.

_“Nnn,_ fuck… Oh, _Pitch,_ God…”

The Boogeyman gave a low growl in reply, something dark, dangerous, and _hungry._ Unaware, Pitch had bit down a bit harder than he meant to at the sound of his name. The single syllable had no right sounding so irresistible when it’d barely been a moan, but Jack’s voice…

Pitch would see to it personally that the full spectrum of that voice would be explored, utilized, and abused.

Except he wasn’t planning on it _right now_ , but Jack kept rubbing against him and it was making him question everything. They _would_ take this slow, damnit, just..

Just… Pitch thrust, once, hard and tight, as if it could possibly demonstrate just what the winter spirit was _doing_ to him.

Jack gasped in shock. The Nightmare King had kept himself so still this whole time that the hard press of his hips took the frostling entirely by surprise. It wore off quickly. His attention split, Jack found himself feeling out the Boogeyman’s body with slow, meaningful intent, unclenching his legs to slide further down Pitch until their hips were aligned and that prominent hardness could be felt through his jeans. It was… Somehow, Jack had thought it would be more subtle, more difficult to feel under layers of clothing, but no. Now that he was properly beneath Pitch, it was hard to miss.

His curiosity wasn’t satisfied, though. What he _really_ wanted to do… Jack’s hand was already sliding along Pitch’s back, lifting away before he got the words out, “May I?...”

Pitch was cursing up a storm in his head. He shouldn’t have done that. What had he been _thinking_ ? Now he just wanted to do it again and again and Jack was still moving those eager hands of his. He had to let go of the Guardian’s neck just to take a breath and center himself, almost _afraid_ to answer Jack’s question. There were so many things he could have been asking and all Pitch wanted to say was _yes_. “I…” And bloody Hell, his voice sounded lost and breathless, just to add to the picture of him losing his composure, “I really did want us to take our time…”

Somehow composed enough to mock despite the blush on his cheeks and the restless way his legs twitched, Jack’s eyes were wide and eager when he looked at Pitch, “I promise to take my time feeling up your cock.”

…Little brat _would_ have a filthy mouth on him just to top it all off, wouldn’t he? _Fuck,_ it was like his dick needed more blood than his body was physically able to hold. Every little thing he was discovering about Jack in his bed was so much _hotter_ than he ever fantasized about and wasn’t _that_ an oxymoron? Only right now, he couldn’t have cared less about semantics because he was almost hard enough that his dick hurt.

What the Hell was he going to do? “Damnit, Jack,” he groaned, slumped into the younger boy’s neck where he took a deep inhale of that wintery scent. It was intoxicating… “I thought you were tired.”

“I _was_ tired,” the Guardian agreed, “and then you started sucking on my neck.” But he could tell that Pitch was serious, and he _hadn’t_ been given permission, so he kept his hands above the belt, instead running his fingers up through Pitch’s hair, just to see what that was like on another person. Surely he was allowed _that?_ “What’s got you so torn up? I’m not trying to rush you, just…”

He was definitely allowed that. Pitch was leaning heavily into the touch now that he had all the excuse in the world to do so and met Jack’s eyes. “Trust me when I say I _want_ to say yes. It’s not just going to calmly fade away now like I had hoped at first.” Smiling, the fear-inducing Nightmare King ran the back of one of his hands down Jack’s cheek in a sweet little caress, enjoying that he was having this conversation at all, “I just don’t want to get too carried away for your first time. And, _Gods_ , Jack, you are having quite the effect on me.”

Jack withheld threat of ball freezing in respect of Pitch’s respect. The Boogeyman was, entirely ironically, merely trying not to scare him off, and Jack appreciated it, so he wasn’t going to mock it too strongly. Just a little, because he couldn’t make himself be a different person, but he could at least take the man seriously.

“What’s, ‘too carried away’? I told you, I’d tell you if I was uncomfortable. You don’t think I will?”

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Pitch hesitated, feeling like he was in a fucking romance novel when he was supposed to be the _Boogeyman_ and maybe Jack had been onto something with the cuddles and love thing, but it wasn’t important, “I want you to be sure you want this. _With me._ ”

“I am,” Jack affirmed, tracing the edge of Pitch’s ear. They were kind of… angular, and little, and Jack liked the idea of playing with them. Were ears usually this endearing? “I’m not asking you to roll me over and fuck me, Pitch. I’m asking if you’ll let me experience touching someone else’s dick for the first time with yours, since you’re here, and I’m here, and you’re hard, and I’m curious, and I trust you not to pull some shit like, ‘You touched it, you bought it, get on your knees!’”

Pitch was chuckling, his eyes closed to mask the little pang of disappointment he felt when it became clear that _yes_ , Jack _was_ just using him as a fun and convenient experiment and it was Pitch who was thinking too much about it meaning anything deeper. He couldn’t even blame the boy; the shade would happily agree to a romp around the sheets for the sake of a little fun. It didn’t need to be anything more than that.

Oh, and then Jack’s fingers just _had_ to curl over that one spot behind his ear that made him _shudder_ and Pitch was leaning in as if he could possibly press their bodies even closer. Fine. He could let go for some harmless and _much wanted_ pleasure. “ _Hn_ … Alright then, Jackie Boy, if that’s what you want…” The Nightmare King smirked and then picked his head up, eyeing the Guardian challengingly, “You best prepare yourself because you aren’t going to be able to forget me.”

Jack was confused again. He did not bother to hide it. Fun was a complex concept; it wasn’t conscious like hope or straightforward like fear. A person could simultaneously have fun and no fun at all and he was getting exactly those vibes from Pitch right now. He was _enjoying,_ but he wasn’t _happy,_ but he felt _good,_ and Jack was confused.

He knew it was his fault.

And worse, he was getting those vibes from _himself,_ because barely a minute ago, Pitch had been petting his face like Jack was something precious and now he looked… Well, Jack didn’t feel _precious,_ anymore. In fact, he felt nervous. He hadn’t felt nervous this whole time and all of a sudden, Pitch’s promise, which had been exciting before, sounded more like a threat. He had liked the Pitch that wanted to go slow, that constantly checked in, that let Jack take charge.

Jack didn’t want to have to _prepare himself_ for Pitch.

The frost spirit swallowed thickly and admitted, “I’m uncomfortable now.”

…

The pang from before was _nothing_ compared to what Pitch felt right then. Which was an unpleasant blend of disappointment and confusion. Hadn’t...that been what Jack wanted? Was he really going to play hot and cold after all this?

Or maybe the Guardian was coming to his senses, finally. He _was_ literally moments away from giving up parts of his virginity to the nefarious _Pitch Black._ Who wanted their first time to be with the master of _fear?_

His dick was awfully upset with him though. Actually he was pretty upset with _himself_ if he somehow made Jack feel uncomfortable, regardless if he understood it or not.

To ease the problem, for _Jack,_ Pitch rose up and removed himself from that tempting body that he’d barely gotten to worship, sitting at the boy’s side so he had any and all freedom to do what he wanted. Pitch wouldn’t stop him. “My apologies,” was all he could say, though he had no idea what for.

Oh God, the fun just dropped like a stone and Jack was left feeling hollow without it. Which was an odd sensation combined with the sheer _reassurance_ that was Pitch giving him space instead of… Jack wasn’t sure. Continuing with his challenge? He knew Pitch wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t _really_ afraid. But the reassurance eased his mind all the same.

Pitch was still putting him first. Jack still called the shots. It was just a momentary thing. They were okay. The winter spirit followed Pitch upright, sitting close without even thinking about it because that was what he always did, “No no, sorry, I’m freaking out and it’s _my_ fault.”

Jack didn’t quite realize until he noticed that he was talking to Pitch’s chest that he was embarrassed about it. The Guardian took a deep breath and looked up into the Nightmare King’s eyes. Pitch deserved an explanation. “I… You’re not… You’re not _happy,_ because of something I said.”

Searching that gaze for answers, Jack begged, “What did I say?”

“Jack…” Pitch was not fond of all of this distress on the fun-loving spirit, and despite what he just said, Pitch still felt like he was at fault. He wanted that smile back. A large gray hand was up at the side of Jack’s face again, his thumb stroking over the spirit’s bottom lip like he could somehow will the smile to the surface.

As far as he was concerned, if Jack was reaching a point of ‘freaking out’, they shouldn’t continue. They shouldn’t have even _started_ , no matter how much he’d liked it. “Last night, this morning with you have been the happiest I’ve felt in ages. You’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t know what I did to scare you, but it’s perfectly fine. We can stop. Maybe you should get some rest.”

Jack raised a hand to cover Pitch’s, lips catching that thumb to kiss it lightly, lingeringly. He agreed with most of that. He was glad to have made Pitch so fucking happy, too. He just wished he could take his words back, now. Whatever they had been.

“We _can_ stop; I know that. That’s why it’s dumb that I freaked out,” the frost spirit reasoned, pulling Pitch’s hand from his cheek so he could hold it while he leaned forward, wrapping his other hand in the Boogeyman’s robe to keep him still when their lips met again. It was a chaste, sweet kiss, if slow, and Jack had a smile on his face when he leaned away, _“We_ should sleep.”

“We should,” came the Boogeyman’s confirmation, wearing a little smile of his own after that kiss and seeing the look on Jack’s face afterwards. It was a shadow of the elation they’d both been feeling before, but Pitch was too grateful that Jack even felt like kissing him again. Maybe there was hope. Or maybe he’d just make sure he was there the next time Jack felt like he was in the mood to experiment. He’d know better now.

For the moment, he was just going to have to suck it up and deal with the erection that had left him sore and hadn’t _quite_ finished wilting yet. Talk about awkward. Golden eyes darted off into the darkness of the lair. His original bed was destroyed, but he still had a living area that was perfectly furnished. It would have to do. “You can stay here, alright? I’ll take the couch.”

Jack blinked for several startled seconds before he smiled indulgently and patted Pitch’s shoulder, “You’re being dumb, but I’ll let it slide because you’re so cute.” Honestly, they’d been sleeping _more_ than side-by-side since the beginning of all this. One little awkward encounter involving potential-sex was not going to undo all of that, but they were back to the Pitch who was overly cautious and let Jack call the shots and that was everything the Guardian wanted.

So he leaned up onto his knees and put his full, nearly inconsequential, weight into shoving the Nightmare King down onto his own bed and immediately burrowed under his arm, wrapping his cold limbs around the shade’s torso and legs, “I always kinda wondered what it would be like to cling to _you_ for a change…”

Well… damnit, it wasn’t like Pitch could argue about this development, not with Jack solidly attached to him like a barnacle. It was terribly charming and something he may have been craving more often than he craved sex, to have someone to hold while he slept.

But thank goodness Jack was so _cold_ . It took a bit of careful rearranging, guiding the frost spirit’s leg with a hand on his thigh so that it _wasn’t_ quite so much in his crotch, before he felt like he was comfortable enough to settle down. Pitch sighed and began running his long fingers up and down the length of Jack’s spine through his hoodie, his other hand curling over the arm thrown over his middle. Yes, he could definitely get used to this… “Well?” Pitch asked with an amused tone, “Everything you ever dreamed of, Frost?”

With his eyes closed and cheek pressed to Pitch’s chest, Jack smiled, “You’re a little bony, but I like it. Especially the petting.”

“Of course,” Pitch huffed, fingers trailing from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, “Everyone likes the petting.”

That made Jack lift his head and rest his chin against Pitch to look up at him, “Do you pet many people, Shadowman?”

“No, not many. There are very few who willingly get so close to the embodiment of fear and darkness,” Pitch’s smile was a little distant before he came back to the spirit on his chest, “But the Nightmares seem to love it.”

“Did you just group me in with all of your pet ponies?”

“It’s a highly exclusive list, you know.”

“Full of ponies,” Jack finished lamely, putting his head back down, “Now I’m offended.”

“No you’re not,” Pitch sounded very sure when his fingers glided along the back of Jack’s neck and ear, “You’re getting pettings.”

“I can get pettings and feel offended at the same time,” Jack quietly argued, sounding tired, or maybe a little drugged.

“Why would you be offended?” Pitch kept his tone just as soft in case Jack was falling asleep. The last thing he wanted to do was get the boy all riled up again. “The Nightmares are no where near the bed to distract me. All of my attention is on you and you alone.”

There was no way Jack could resist a smile. His fingers gently, painlessly, playfully pinched Pitch’s side to show his faux displeasure, “What a sweet talker you are.”

Pitch’s reaction was to squirm a fraction and deliver the same sort of pinch to Jack’s nape. “No where near as much of a flirt as you.”

“I’m not a flirt!” Jack denied, squirming away from that hand, which really just meant squirming against Pitch’s side, “My affection is honest!"

Which meant Pitch was chasing Jack into him further rubbing the pads of his fingers into that cool skin, “You’re a flirt, you already admitted it.”

Jack had no words for the way Pitch’s fingers made his muscles melt. Everything felt loose and tense at the same time and he wondered if there was anything he could do to make Pitch never stop.

“I admitted everyone _calls_ me a flirt!”

Pitch _liked_ the way he could feel Jack melting, and that was plenty of motivation to continue what he was doing. His other hand was even getting in on the action, lightly stroking up and down the length of a hoodie-covered arm. “So then you’re honestly affectionate with everyone? Here I thought I was special.”

Jack was so quiet, shuddering from sensation against Pitch’s body, that he hardly sounded like he was arguing at all, “You are special.”

Pitch wanted to believe that, believe he was special to _Jack,_ he really did. He leaned his head down so he could murmur near the Guardian’s ear teasingly, “ _Flirt._ ”

Jack didn’t rise to the bait. He was too happy right where he was. So he merely replied, “Honest.”

“Hn,” Pitch really didn’t want to argue more on it with Jack looking all sweet cuddled up against him. But since he was there anyway, he dropped a little kiss on the tip of the frostling’s ear before he pulled away and laid back into the pillows. Right now his fingers were working at the side of Jack’s neck and drawing nonsensical patterns on the back of his hand, content to give his companion at least this much pleasure for a morning nearly ruined. “Get some sleep, Jack.”

Jack's fingers tried to return the idle patterns on Pitch's chest, but consciousness was abandoning him fast. He was just so damn _comfortable_ , "You too, Boogeyman. 'Night..."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter up! We're still alive, and still plan to post more, but cosplay is kind of eating our lives. Updates should be a little more regular after July. :) 
> 
> The song Pitch was dancing to is 'Bad Boy, Good Man' by Tape Five. We firmly believe Pitch is a lean, mean, swing-dancing machine. 
> 
> Also hooray, we've made it through the slow burn~ (50k of silly fluff counts as slow burn, right?)
> 
> Thanks as always for the comments and kudos!


	4. Here's Your Stop, Do Your Hop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch and Jack explore the new development in their relationship. Yeah it's exactly what you think it is. Wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO YEAH. We're headed right into Smutville. Remember those warnings from the first chapter? Everything's gonna get indulgent, idealistic, and flowery from here on. Shameless drivel. Pace yourselves and HAVE FUN KIDDOS. 8D 
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments that let us know we aren't the only ones having fun with this guilty pleasure~~

The first of November was always a gloomy day for Pitch Black. 

There was absolutely no motivation to get up and start plotting how to spread more fear across the world because  _ nothing _ was quite like the effect Halloween had. And the world immediately wanted to move on like the night had never happened. Decorations would be taken down, jack-o-lanterns destroyed, costumes stashed away or thrown out... All to make room for  _ Christmas _ . 

It was a day Pitch didn't want to face, so he slept well into the evening. 

Or that had been his plan the night before, anyway. 

He did sleep soundly,  _ cozily _ with a little frost spirit at his side keeping him pleasantly cool, and not once had he let that comfort go. 

Comfort at some point started to transform into pleasure. Limbs shifted, sighs were exhaled, and Pitch subconsciously had his head tilted back against the pillows. When the sensation of almost ticklish and  _ wet _ registered, silvery-gold eyes had to peer open. 

Jack was on him, licking and sucking and it felt so good... He was going to get hard again at this rate, if for no other reason than his dick being spiteful after the previous night. 

Pitch shivered and bit back the noise that threatened to come out, his fingers flexing against the soft material of that blue hoodie. He only savored a few more blissful seconds of this rare treatment until he forced his voice to behave. "Feeling hungry this morning, Jack?" 

Jack only sucked harder. He  _ really  _ wanted this to work, but had no idea how to do it. Well, he had  _ some  _ idea, but now that he was here, he realized there were some details missing from his understanding, like how fast did the bruise form, what was too soft, how much was too much, would it look different if he did it by biting instead of sucking?

He couldn’t pull away and  _ ask  _ though. He was afraid that if he stopped, if he let go, that Pitch wouldn’t let him start again. And he  _ really  _ wanted this to work, to see his mark on Pitch’s neck for the next week  _ at least.  _ Proof of what happened last night, of their evolving relationship. Evidence for his own eyes of the things he was allowed to do now. 

You know, as long as he didn’t let Pitch stop him.

Of course Jack didn't say anything. Obviously, he only wanted to drive Pitch even more insane. It was a good thing Jack  _ was _ inexperienced or Pitch may have tackled him to the bed by now. 

Not that the sensation of icy lips and slippery tongue combined with the growing heat of his own skin wasn't wonderfully delightful. 

He did pick up on the barest hint of fear while the spirit worked. Did Jack really think he'd mind this? After last night, the Boogeyman was ecstatic he was receiving something more than  _ hugs. _ Though he liked the hugs too, he couldn't deny it. 

His long arms wrapped securely around the Guardian, holding him close just in case the boy had the silly idea that he wasn't wanted right where he was. If Jack wanted to give him a return hickey, he would wear it with pride. Now if he could just keep a stirring erection under control...

"You can bite if you want to. You won't hurt me." Or, you know, since it was an obvious lost cause anyway, he might as well enjoy it as much as he could. 

Jack didn’t need the arms, though he liked them. As the shock slowly wore off,  _ fun  _ took its place, and the Guardian suddenly knew how much Pitch liked this, liked being woken up like this, liked Jack pressed against him like this, liked  _ all  _ of this. 

He hadn’t been planning to bite, but Pitch was excited at the possibility, so Jack gave in and did it. He also got the impression that it wasn’t so much that he wouldn’t hurt Pitch as Pitch liked getting a little hurt. He wasn’t the only one with kinks, here.

And was that ever true. 

Pitch’s reaction to teeth was a long hiss that tapered off into a pleased little purr, heat pooling rapidly in his groin. Somehow he didn’t find it in him to care. Feeling even just  _ some  _ good was better than feeling nothing, no matter what the end result. 

Remembering last night, the Boogeyman started moving his hands all over Jack’s back. Only somehow in their tangle, the hoodie had rode up a bit and when his fingers touched  _ skin _ reaching the lower part of Jack’s spine, more of his control slipped away. That cool, bare skin… Dipping beneath the fabric, his large hands slowly smoothed their way up Jack’s sides, marveling at how soft he was and hoping the boy wouldn’t get scared again.

Jack paused with his teeth around gray skin to moan, a quiet, almost timid sound against Pitch’s throat. He bit a little harder since the Boogeyman seemed to like it  _ that much,  _ and finally decided it was safe enough to let go and check on his progress. But also to tell Pitch, “That feels so much better without the hoodie in the way.”

….Yeah that definitely wasn’t fear. Pitch should have found it odd,  _ not  _ wanting to feel fear, but there were much more interesting things happening right now. Jack already knew one of his weaknesses. Rather, he  _ handed it over on a silver platter.  _ The next step was to even the playing field, and hearing the spirit’s approval just made him want  _ more.  _ Yes he still wanted to take things slow, yes Jack’s first time  _ would  _ be special, but there was no harm in just touching right? They were only experimenting anyway… 

Smirking, Pitch gravitated towards Jack's face while his fingers inched lower, “Still interested in taking it off?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Jack answered without hesitation. He began to sit up before he thought better of it and leaned back down, placing a sweet, little kiss on the Nightmare King’s cheekbone, and  _ then  _ he sat up to take the hoodie off, “I trust you, Pitch. I’m sorry I freaked out last night. You didn’t deserve that. I know you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”

…

Well if that didn’t make it all sound so  _ meaningful  _ again. 

Pitch was taken aback by the kiss, and the apology, that he almost missed the show he’d encouraged. In fact, when it was over, it was Jack’s eyes he was staring at in awe, not his body. No one had ever given their trust so freely to him before. Nevermind the fact that he’d never made himself out to  _ be  _ a very trustworthy person, and he had in fact deceived Jack in the past. How could a few months change their relationship that much? 

But here they were in bed together, skirting around the idea of sex and  _ more.  _ It made the Nightmare King  _ excited  _ to think of having a partner with him always, a rare sense of purpose he didn’t have to spend years to construct trying to fill a lonely void. 

_ If,  _ of course, those were Jack’s intentions. The spirit still wasn’t clear, and he was still so young, and with his interests almost literally guided by the wind, it was very possible he’d be left behind for something ... _ more  _ fun. 

Though what was more fun than prank wars and electroswing dance offs and teleporting through shadows, Pitch honestly didn’t know. 

With an affectionate smile, Pitch pulled the Guardian back in and attempted to convey what he was feeling in a solid, intimate kiss. 

Jack fell into that kiss with abandon, trying out the sound of his own moan again. The hoodie was tossed aside and the frost spirit’s arms ended up on either side of Pitch’s head, holding him aloft. Everything was suddenly so very  _ intense,  _ from the complex way Pitch was enjoying this to the look in his eyes when he stared at Jack… It was a lot to take in and Jack was sure he was missing something between the lines, but he couldn’t focus on that when the Nightmare King was kissing him so  _ soundly.  _

Pitch would have happily kissed him  _ forever  _ if it meant getting Jack to make sounds like that. He sighed deeply as their tongues nuzzled into each other, hands feeling out every last inch of the Guardian, then reversing as he dragged the backs of his nails and fingers up and down the same paths. He wanted to memorize everything he was given permission to feel… 

Eventually Pitch did break their kiss, because Jack deserved an actual verbal response in addition to a physical one, but their foreheads were touching and they were still within easy kissing distance, which was the only way their parting was bearable. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Jack. Whatever you want to do, whatever pace you want to set, I will follow you.” 

“Mm hmm,” Jack hummed his understanding, pretty sure his entire body was covered in goosebumps after such thorough treatment. It was the kind of thing you couldn’t feel by yourself. Jack knew; he tried. When those hands began to slow, he leaned into them much like a cat to remind Pitch not to stop, “But you get a say in it, too. Sex is about  _ both  _ of us.”

Pitch’s smirk grew, thoroughly enjoying the feline-like reactions out of the white-haired spirit. He wasn’t about to stop his touches, just relocate them, tracing around Jack’s waist and sides. “We don’t have to go that far, you know. I’m… If this is all you want to share with me, I understand.” 

Jack paused and looked at Pitch in confusion, before his expression smoothed out and he smacked the Boogeyman’s shoulder, “You’re being dumb, again.  _ You’re  _ the one who told  _ me  _ to slow down last night, remember?”

…. Smacking was no way to earn petting, so Pitch’s hands stopped at Jack’s hips as his brow furrowed. What was with all the insults to his intelligence? His performance last night, outside of the bedroom of course, had been  _ brilliant _ if he did say so himself. “Yes, and you  _ still  _ got scared. So I’m letting you have control of the reigns. We can do as much or as little as you want, but you don’t have to do it all with  _ me _ . You only get one first time, Jack.” 

Something about this was really off, but Jack couldn’t quite tell what it was. He was too distracted by the  _ caring  _ Pitch was doing. For  _ him.  _ For his first time. For his emotional health. As if Jack needed more reasons to be sure about this. “You are so fucking sweet,” Jack whispered in awe. 

Pitch made a little reluctant groaning noise, but it was obvious he was still mostly amused. Lightly, he nudged his nose against Jack’s. “Hush. I am still the infamous Nightmare King…” 

“The  _ sweetest  _ infamous Nightmare King there ever was,” Jack corrected primly, play coming naturally to him despite the way he was feeling right now. He sat up to take Pitch’s hands and kissed each set of fingers before he leaned down to kiss Pitch’s lips again, “You might be scary, creepy, and sometimes cruel, but you’re also considerate, thoughtful, gentle, and  _ so much fun.  _ This isn’t the first time I’ve considered letting you fuck me, you know. It’s been on my mind for a while. Tell me, why  _ wouldn’t  _ I want this with you?”

Pitch was not used to being hit with so many compliments at once.  _ Honest  _ compliments. He wasn’t used to  _ any  _ of this, really, but ...it was nice. He let their fingers entwine, gray locking with near white, and responded with as much honesty as he was given, “Because of our history, maybe.  _ My  _ history. I can’t say this is normal behavior for me- I only act this way around  _ you _ …”

“Even better,” Jack smiled, a playful, eager little thing, as he settled himself down into Pitch’s body, “I wouldn’t want you so much if I was _ just  _ another frost spirit to you. We should at least be  _ special  _ to each other, right?”

Pitch turned to kiss the first part of Jack he could reach. It was enough to send a  _ rush  _ through him, to know and  _ hear  _ that he was wanted by someone.  _ So much.  _ If only he knew how to keep it that way for eternity. “As far as I’m concerned, you are the  _ only  _ frost spirit, Jack. I wouldn’t have shared my favorite night of the entire year with you if you weren’t special.” 

“I kind of figured that,” Jack teased, dropping his head to kiss a little something on Pitch, too. He was feeling… so much better about everything. About last night. They were okay. They were  _ more  _ than okay. And alright, he had sort of  _ assumed  _ they would be fine, but lying here, trading kisses, and listening to all the ways in which Pitch was looking out for  _ him  _ made it all the better. 

So he squirmed experimentally, feeling out Pitch’s body against his all over again,  _ “So,  _ any plans for today? What do you usually do after your favorite night of the entire year?”

Pitch grumbled thinking about the truthful answer to  _ that.  _ Having Jack writhing on top of him made it impossible for him to be actually upset though, and he untangled one set of their hands so he could resume rubbing and trailing patterns into the spirit’s skin, “Brood. November first is the worst day of the year for me. The world tends to want to erase that Halloween ever happened like it was a bad date.” 

“Aww, Pitch,” Jack used his newly freed hand to pet the side of Pitch’s face with the backs of his fingers, comforting and cherishing the feel, “Don’t worry. I’ll make it better, Baby.” The teasing came naturally, but the seriousness after… Jack bit his lip uncertainly and tilted his head before he offered, “I might know of a few houses you’d like to see today, maybe?”

Pitch fell towards the little caress even though Jack was mocking him, loving the mild chill against his skin. “I’m up for whatever you want,” he said between the little kisses he was placing on the back of the Guardian’s fingers, “My planning ended at the bed. Although with you here, lounging around in it all day doesn’t sound so depressing anymore.”

The smile was back as Jack draped himself over Pitch's chest, "We can lounge today, explore tomorrow?  My houses won't change overnight."

“Oh?” Now Pitch was curious about these houses. But not as curious as he was about Jack’s compliance. “Are you sure you’ll be able to stand staying in one place all day? That’s an awful lot of quality time with the Boogeyman…” 

"If I get bored," Jack allowed, his fingers following the long lines of Pitch's throat and ghosting over the little oval bruise that was finally beginning to show, "I'll make you get up and teach me to dance."

Pitch let his eyes flutter shut, enjoying the shiver that rippled down his spine as Jack studied his mark. His very  _ first  _ mark. They’d be lucky if they both weren’t reduced to jelly by the time the boy wanted to dance, but regardless, “It would be my pleasure, Jack.” ****  
  


* * *

 

Twas the week mark before Christmas, and there was only one creature animatedly stirring within the deep lair of the Nightmare King. His precious pets were out spreading their  _ special  _ dreaming experience with a vengeance tonight, to counter all the hope and light that was accumulating as the time drew near, and Pitch was left to his own devices to pass the hours.

One of those devices being a hand-carved, custom made roulette wheel, one large enough to fit the massive bulk of dear old Saint Nick onto. The shiny lacquer finish was in the process of drying. 

It was a beautiful piece with sharp angles and spiral swirls reminiscent of the movie that had inspired its creation, but it wasn’t giving Pitch the same pride and joy as it had when he’d been in the middle of carving it. 

There was no bubbling enthusiasm and glittering laughter to fill in the silence. Jack Frost, his only accomplice, had been missing for over a week now. 

Not  _ missing.  _ Pitch knew where Jack  _ was,  _ it just wasn’t with him. Everything had felt so right following Halloween, when they’d spent nearly every day together, dancing, laughing, pranking, conspiring,  _ kissing _ … Things had started to change as soon as Thanksgiving hit. Jack had spent most of his day and part of his night with his old friends on the holiday, and following it came the request for Jack’s help making toys in North’s workshop. Pitch couldn’t have been upset about it; it  _ was  _ the perfect undercover opportunity they needed to make sure their plan would work. 

But within the void Jack had left him in, Pitch began to question the frost spirit’s commitment. Perhaps even the greatest prankster couldn’t help but be bitten by the holiday bug, and he was so caught up in the  _ fun  _ of the season that their scheme seemed paltry in comparison. 

Really, Pitch just missed him. To have his long sought after companionship taken away was putting a damper on his  _ everything _ , and he almost wished he had one of those insufferable mobile devices just so he could get a damn update here or there. ….He  _ deserved  _ an update after all the work he did creating the monstrous machine that took up almost as much room as his globe-turned-empty-nest.

So Pitch wasn’t going to wallow over it for another second until he was sure there was actually something to wallow over. He knew well where North’s workshop was. Within seconds, he disappeared through the shadows and materialized at the very spot where he’d nearly seen his world domination plan come to fruition what seemed like so long ago. 

The place was crawling with elves and yetis, no surprise. From his hiding spot, he wasn’t able to make out a humanoid spirit in either blue or red… So he continued creeping from shadow to shadow until he found what he was looking for. 

It took the better part of an hour, and Pitch was getting understandably frustrated with so much chaos happening in the shop, but he was able to re-center himself when he’d appeared under a bed in an empty room. The familiar space was comforting. 

But no where near the  _ thrill  _ he felt when minutes later, a pair of bare feet he knew  _ personally  _ walked through the door and approached the bed. The door closed, and Pitch could even see the bottom of a wooden staff from his perspective…. 

He couldn’t resist. As soon as those feet were close enough, a shadowy hand shot out from under the bed and grabbed an ankle. 

Jack yelped.

Actually  _ yelped.  _

His feet tried to scramble backwards, but as one of them was locked in a gray hand, he didn’t get very far. Instead he fell, hands abandoning his wooden staff to cradle a bundle of hot colors for safety as he landed hard on his ass, and shortly after, his back. 

Instincts well honed after several traded pranks, Jack’s eyes immediately sought out Pitch’s under the bed and even through an obviously pained wince, he smiled, “Hey, Pitch. What’re you doing under my bed, huh?” In a show of flexibility, the winter spirit managed to roll closer to the edge of the bed to see the Boogeyman better without tugging his ankle out from Pitch’s grip, groaning through the move now that his back ached and precious toy still tucked carefully into his chest.

After such a  _ long  _ absence, that brief spike of fear was simply not good enough of a greeting. Pitch let go of Jack’s foot, and with all of his spidery limbs, he crawled out from the shadows, on top of his missing accomplice, straddling his waist. “What’s the matter, Jack? Not happy to see me?” 

Jack had forgotten just how creepy Pitch could be.

He had also forgotten how much he  _ liked  _ it.

It certainly wasn’t  _ fear  _ Jack was feeling as he laid back underneath the Boogeyman and let himself be pinned. It didn’t even look like Pitch was moving his limbs. Jack could feel them all over, but the shade seemed to be  _ gliding  _ out from the shadows, nothing so mundane as  _ crawling.  _ It was weird and it was creepy and it was  _ hot.  _

Jack had some odd priorities.

“I’m  _ very  _ happy,” he answered with a smile, moving the toy out from between them and setting it safely aside so he could wrap those arms around the Nightmare King and tug him in for a greeting kiss.

That was  _ much  _ better. 

Pitch was wearing a smile of his own before it was covered with Jack’s mouth and he instantly went on the offensive. A hand was at the side of the frost spirit’s face, guiding his head back so he could aggressively plunge his tongue into the other male’s mouth, tasting and reclaiming all of that delicious territory denied to him for far too long. 

With an indulgent hum that seemed like hours later, Pitch pulled back, nipping at Jack’s bottom lip, then burying his face into the Guardian’s neck with a deep inhale. He wanted Jack filling up as many of his senses as he could. “It’s been a while, you know…” 

“Sorry,” Jack apologized, going in for a nibble on the edge of Pitch’s ear, talking around it as he licked and nipped and generally reacquainted his mouth with the Nightmare King’s taste, “I lost track of time, I guess. I keep breaking the things I’m trying to build. Too stubborn to give up. You know how I am.”

Oh, Jack  _ knew  _ what a sucker he was when it came to the ears. How was Pitch supposed to be upset when the boy was making him  _ shiver  _ like that? The shade was happily rooted to the spot, “Have you forgotten what  _ we’re  _ trying to build?”

Jack was snickering even before he said it, “A snowman?”

Pitch promptly bit into Jack’s neck.

And then Jack was laughing.

“What, Pitch? A better scare? A new bed? A dance routine? A relationship? A life together? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

Insulted, Pitch let go of Jack’s neck with a growl and seemingly floated back onto his feet, staring down at the eternal teenager on the floor with a glare. Of course he’d been warned that Jack was terrible at planning, but to be  _ mocked  _ for it? After being left  _ alone _ ? “It’s a week away. What were you going to do if I  _ hadn’t  _ sought you out?” 

Jack stared up at Pitch with wide, guileless eyes, “Probably come find you Christmas Eve in a mild panic and hope you had everything ready. Speaking of, think you can hide seamlessly in my shadow? I’d like to show you where I need you to bring North, if I can.”

“Hmph,” Pitch crossed his hands behind his back, looking away indignant, but trying to keep his expression neutral observing all the little nick nacks and books around the room, “Nevermind if you have  _ new  _ priorities now, Jack.”

“Don’t be like that, Pitch,” Jack pleaded, slowly rolling to his feet and rubbing his back where he fell on it, “You know I’m excited for this, and you know I wouldn’t let you down on purpose. You know better than most, in fact.”

“Fine,” Pitch conceded, only because arguing would most likely make him feel worse when he should have been better prepared for Jack’s literal flights of fancy. It wasn’t Jack’s fault  _ Pitch  _ was having issues with the loneliness. “Yes I can hide in your shadow. Are we leaving now, then?” 

“Sure,” Jack shrugged, bending down to grab the toy and his staff, putting one on the bedside table and idly twirling the other. A mischievous glint entered his eyes when he turned at the door to look at Pitch, “And then, when we’re done, maybe we can make out on  _ my  _ bed for a change?”

“Wouldn’t want to get between you and your new toy,” Pitch answered easily. He didn’t wait for Jack’s reaction, and simply stepped forward, sinking into the blackness that made up the Guardian’s shadow. 

If Jack wasn’t so concerned about the spite dripping from those words, he would have been fairly attracted to the way Pitch had just melted into the floor. There wasn’t much he could do about it though, so he opened the door and stepped through, seemingly talking to himself as he made his way up the stairs, “Now that I’ve fixed the moisture problem, it’s probably about time I took a break.”

The Guardian was quiet after that, tossing his staff back and forth between his hands and twirling it through his fingers until he reached a place where the stairs narrowed just a few feet to climb higher, “Here’s the bottleneck. Not ideal, but better than anywhere else,” and then he went higher, skipping steps here and there until he was a couple floors up from the bottleneck where the rooms became smaller and had less uses beside storage. He stopped at one unremarkable door and slipped inside, where dust on the floor marked the places boxes and bags used to be, “I cleared this one out so we’ll have room for the wheel and, you know, grand dramatic monologues.”

Once Pitch was certain they were alone in the room, Jack’s shadow split into two identical silhouettes. Except one was walking away from the other, inspecting the dimensions of the room and slowly morphing from Jack’s features into the Nightmare King’s. “The hardest part will be sneaking the wheel into the room, but this should do. Good job, Jack.” It was nice to know that he hadn’t  _ actually  _ been forgotten about. 

That was… super creepy. Positive reinforcement aside, watching the shadows move and morph along the floor like that sent a shiver down his spine.  _ Fuck,  _ things they don’t warn you about when dating the stuff of nightmares. 

“Sneak it in while I’m icing the stairs; everyone’ll be distracted thinking I’m up to my normal antics.” He wandered over to an abandoned worktop and hopped up to sit on it, “I’ve located at least one elf door, so I’ll know to ice that, too. Any yetis who happen to be up here when I block the stairs, I can slide back down a few floors.  _ I  _ think the hardest part will be restraining North long enough to strap him to the wheel.”

“Hmm…” the shadowy form of Pitch Black rounded in on the seated spirit, inching steadily closer along the floor, until it abruptly swept away like it might as well have been nothing but black dust. There was a pause of at least five silent seconds before darkness suddenly sprang out anew and grabbed onto Jack’s wrists, holding them high above his head while Pitch, nothing more than a vaguely solid shadow, leaned in close to murmur sweetly to him, “I’ll have the element of  _ surprise _ on my side…”

It was…  _ tacky as fuck,  _ but Jack liked the classic feel and the way Pitch was showing off for him, so he leaned in right back and taunted, “Then I hope that’s  _ enough.”  _

Pitch didn’t resist closing the rest of the distance, placing a literal ghost of a kiss on Jack’s lips before he released him and faded back to the floor to behave like a  _ normal  _ shadow. “This will truly gauge how much of my strength I’ve managed to regain. I hope  _ that’s  _ enough.” 

Jack hadn’t noticed while he was working, but now that Pitch was here and distracting him from his tinkering, the frost spirit realized just how much he had  _ missed  _ the Boogeyman’s touch. That barely there kiss just made him  _ crave  _ the real thing and suddenly Jack didn’t care so much about ironing out their plan, “I wanna be back in my room, now.”

Pitch assumed Jack meant the one North gave him, and not the one  _ he  _ gave him. It stung, but the Nightmare King solidified enough to hold his hand out and pull Jack through the shadows with him. 

They appeared back in the room under the bed, pressed tight to each other, Jack on top of Pitch’s chest. “Better?” 

_ “So much,”  _ Jack breathed, right before he gripped Pitch’s face with both hands and held it still for a thorough ravishing. His legs worked themselves to either side of Pitch’s thighs and held on tight, desperate to feel as much of him against Pitch’s body as physically possible.

It was nice to be with someone who didn’t  _ mind  _ the whole under the bed thing, and if this was where Jack wanted to make out, then his lanky arms were wrapping tight around a thin waist to hold him impossibly close. Pitch was still kind of angry, and hurt, and he knew Jack wouldn’t be curled up with him in his bed tonight, but he was weak against this  _ desire _ , he could practically taste it on that frosty tongue… 

With a long sigh, Pitch decided to taunt the frostling by bucking his hips and letting their groins crash together as heavily as their lips. 

“Mm!” Jack made a startled sound, muffled against Pitch’s mouth, that trailed off into an indulgent moan as he rocked into the body beneath him to feel it again and again. There was nothing else like it. Talking, laughing, joking, smiling,  _ none  _ of it made Jack feel as connected to another as he did when he was pressed to Pitch like this. The solidity of another body against his was almost enough to erase all those times someone had gone right through him for all those years… Maybe one day it would.

It had only meant to be a little tease, but Pitch couldn’t say he was surprised when Jack latched on, squirming against him in earnest. He loved that passion in the boy,  _ missed it  _ dearly, and though he was still insisting they take their time with their intimacy, Pitch had no problem moving with Jack’s rhythm like they were dancing sprawled on the floor. It felt  _ so good _ … 

And then one of his hands felt a little adventurous and crept its way down, giving Jack’s pert little ass a nice squeeze to force them even closer together. 

“Oh God, Pitch,” Jack gasped, then groaned. He never knew ahead of time just how much Pitch would be willing to give, but fuck, he  _ loved  _ it when the Nightmare King crossed the lines in the sand. Jack ground his hips harder into the man beneath him and confessed, “You’re gonna make me come like this…”

It was the sexiest confession the Nightmare King had ever heard (although he thought that about  _ all  _ of Jack’s bedroom confessions). So little could go so  _ far _ , and Pitch longed for the moment when he would finally take the Guardian and make him  _ his.  _ His dick was certainly encouraging him to  _ do it already.  _

But right now, Pitch only cared for Jack’s pleasure, only cared to make him moan and squirm and have what he so far had only experienced with the shadow man in his lifetime. Not thinking anything of it, his hand came up, and then slid back down, this time  _ under  _ the fabric of Jack’s pants when he next groped the delectably soft mounds of the other spirit’s ass. “Is that what you want?” Pitch cooed out next to a pale ear as he nosed at Jack’s cheek, “Do you want me to make you come, Jack? Just like this?”

Viciously biting his own lip, the guardian keened and attempted to press himself into Pitch’s hips and hands at the same time. It wasn’t possible, but it felt good to try. “Fuck, yes, _Pitch…”_ Bare skin on bare skin was Jack’s most favorite thing in the world right now, and the winter spirit wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out Pitch _knew_ it. There was something so fucking _intimate_ about it, and Jack craved intimacy unlike anything else. And Pitch _definitely_ knew that. He was putty in the Nightmare King’s hands, and he wasn’t even a little bit afraid.

Fuck, he  _ loved  _ hearing the sound of his name out of that mouth. Pitch groaned appreciatively and bucked up against the Guardian  _ harder _ . He wanted to feel Jack come,  _ needed  _ to. He  _ had  _ to leave the other with a taste of ecstasy that was  _ so good _ , he’d never consider wanting to be away for this long again. His other hand easily made its way underneath Jack’s hoodie, stroking his spine while Pitch nipped and licked at his partner’s neck, purring out in a sultry tone in between, “ _ Come for me _ , Jack. I want to watch you… You’re so fucking beautiful right now…” 

Jack wanted to. He wanted to  _ so bad.  _ Pitch’s touch was electric and the frost spirit bathed in it, panting harshly as he focused so intently on those feelings, the sensations, this  _ experience.  _ “Nn, Pitch,” Jack begged, rolling his whole body against the Nightmare King and wishing he had enough room to ditch his hoodie altogether, the way he was prone to do these days. He needed  _ more,  _ “Squeeze… Squeeze my ass again.  _ Please.”  _

“Oh,  _ Jack _ …” As if Pitch could possibly resist such a request. But he  _ could  _ play with it a bit. His long fingers smoothed over those perfectly rounded contours, up and down and up again, before he timed his next squeeze with the sharp thrust of his hips, trapping Jack with the dual sensations. Gods, and he had the awful urge to do more with his fingers, maybe… Alright, he’d do it once,  _ just  _ once, gently he let a finger trace down the cleft between those cheeks, inching that much closer to something  _ much  _ more intimate, but he followed it immediately with another grope and a moan and stars above, he’d never  _ wanted  _ anyone this much before. 

Jack’s breathing turned unsteady, rhythm faltering just a bit as all of his focus honed in on the brand new sensation. He whined when Pitch took it away. He bucked harder to show his disapproval. He bit the lobe of Pitch’s ear and pleaded,  _ “Don’t stop…”  _

Pitch had no one to blame but himself for the shift in Jack’s attention. Oh fuck, what was he thinking… He  _ wasn’t,  _ that was the problem. His  _ dick  _ was. Accentuated with the nip at his ear, the Nightmare King growled, but his finger was back, pressing hard, sinking into the ridge for Jack to feel his touch. He wanted to give Jack everything, make him  _ scream  _ in unknown pleasure, but there was the constant nagging in his mind to  _ pace themselves.  _ Though, nothing could stop the little noise of want that came out of him when the tip of his finger eventually brushed over the sensitive,  _ virgin  _ skin of the younger spirit’s entrance. 

“Mm, yes, Pitch, just like that,” Jack panted into the shade’s ear. He never stopped rocking his body, speeding up in carnal desperation. He wanted to come  _ so bad…  _ His fingers had crept up into Pitch’s hair, clutching at the strands and then unclenching to run through them over and over, just another manifestation of his inability to  _ stay still.  _ “Make me  _ feel  _ it…”

Damnit, _fuck_ , Pitch wished he would have come more prepared. He needed to start carrying some sort of lube around with him because he got the feeling Jack wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less for much longer. And it was so damn _sexy_ … The Boogeyman dotted Jack’s neck with a few more kisses, just to keep the intimacy high when his other hand sank down to join the other underneath Jack’s pants, one squeezing and massaging while the other.... Pitch had to take a breath _himself,_ leaning into that wonderful petting, before he pressed into that spot with the pad of his finger, hard without being rough, and rubbed small little circles against it. “ _Gods_ , I want to fuck you,” he whispered, again, without thinking. It was some kind of exquisite torture to be _so close_ and still so far. 

Pitch… Pitch looked  _ so hot  _ right now. Jack swallowed thickly, watching with half-lidded eyes while he bucked uncontrollably against the man below him. It had been obvious from the start that Pitch wasn’t pacing them for his own benefit and that was terribly endearing, but watching the man fall apart giving  _ Jack  _ just what he wanted was a whole different level of amazing. 

But Jack always wanted so much  _ more.  _

“I wanna be fucked,” he damn near  _ whimpered  _ into the Nightmare King’s ear, knowing it wouldn’t happen tonight but absolutely sure that he was ready, whenever Pitch would concede. They could go slow, they just had to keep  _ going,  _ “I want  _ you _ to fuck me. I wanna be fucked by you.  _ Pitch!”  _

“ _ Jack! _ ” It was  _ tearing him apart  _ on the inside  _ not  _ to roll them over right now and fuck the cold itself right out of Jack Frost. Pitch would have had the whole workshop on red alert just from all the noise the two of them would make together. And he wouldn’t even care; he would just keep on happily plowing away at the frost sprite no matter  _ who  _ came through that door and oh Hell, he needed to stop thinking about it. 

Pitch needed Jack to come if only to save both of them from doing something foolish. 

He thrust his aching cock just as hard and desperate against Jack, and his fingers moved faster, almost,  _ almost  _ pushing inside though he absolutely refused without some sort of lubrication- even saliva and  _ oh _ , he would love to lick Jack… Pitch was panting too,  _ clinging  _ to whatever self control he had left and yet letting loose as much as his icy lover wanted. “Oh Jack, just you wait. I’m going to fuck you so good and you’re going to scream and love every fucking second…” 

Finally he felt himself on that cliff. _Finally_ he felt himself ready to tip over into bliss and thoughtless pleasure. It was rough, it was messy, it was uncoordinated, and Jack could feel _every bit of it._ It was exciting, it was arousing, it made him _want._ Fuck, he wanted Pitch so bad. He wanted those hands on him _all the time._ But there was just something about that finger being right where it was, Pitch pressing into him _just like that,_ that already made him want to scream. It felt _so good._ He was so sensitive and Pitch wasn’t letting up and his body felt… Fuck, _fuck._

He came with a muffled cry against Pitch’s throat.

It only took an extra handful of thrusts for the Nightmare King to follow suit. Jack really  _ was  _ beautiful. Watching and  _ hearing  _ him orgasm was just too much for his neglected dick to handle. 

As they both came crashing from their high, Pitch moved his hands up from Jack’s ass to his middle where he could properly  _ hold  _ him, unable to do much more than let his hands fumble around in circles while the rest of his body tingled. He honestly hadn’t been looking to climax himself, only Jack, but oh it just made him crave the frosty spirit even more. Even while he was trying to catch his breath, he still fought to place a soft kiss on the Guardian’s cheek to show his overwhelming affection. 

Jack sighed, a pleased shudder of a breath against Pitch’s skin. He felt… light and happy and  _ warm.  _ He was sure anybody else would still find it cold, but to  _ Jack  _ it was the warmest he’d ever been. 

Slowly, the frost spirit shifted over Pitch’s body, relaxing his legs, pulling his arms back down, and snuggling into the Boogeyman’s chest as if he intended to be there for a while. 

“I  _ missed  _ you.”

Pitch hadn’t realized just how badly he’d been wanting to hear those words out of Jack’s mouth until it happened. It made him smile, another kiss placed on Jack’s forehead as he brought a hand up to card through those unruly white tufts. Whatever he’d been upset about before was so far from his mind with Jack curled up on him like this, basking in the haze of their mutual orgasm. “I missed you too, Jack. That’s… the real reason I came looking for you.” 

“Of course it is,” the Guardian snorted, amused, “Love and cuddles.” As if in example, Jack wiggled suggestively against Pitch before settling down again. Then he yawned, because orgasms sometimes had that effect on him. And suddenly, this wasn’t the bed he wanted to be sleeping on. ...Or under, as the case may be. 

“Pitch, I…” He felt a little awkward about this, given  _ he  _ was the one who had been gone a week, “I want to go home. But I think North’ll notice if I don’t say bye and fly off in the wind. And normally I wouldn’t give a shit, but I don’t want to tip him off with only a week to go, so can you… just this once, take me home and bring me back when we wake up?”

Despite the mocking that Pitch absolutely wanted to smack Jack for, he placed a solid kiss on those cool lips hearing his full request. The fact alone that the Guardian considered home with  _ him _ made his chest feel ridiculously light, no doubt made worse by their activities. “Of course, Jack,” he murmured, nuzzling their noses together as they began sinking down into darkness, “Whatever you want.” 

It wasn’t just that once. 

Every day that week, when Jack entered his room to retire, often long into the night as Jack was a teenager, therefore mostly nocturnal, Pitch would be waiting to take him back to sleep in the eerily lit globe of his lair. They kept up a running log of compared notes, checking and rechecking the details of their plan, but mostly just enjoyed the feel of sleeping side by side into the morning.

They waited until midday Christmas Eve to launch their plan. As creative and enterprising as they were, even they didn’t think they had more material than a few hours worth to make North endure before he would run off to deliver gifts. As a favor, all week Jack had been upping the production schedules, editing numbers and pushing deadlines to make sure these last few hours of work were unnecessary to the workshop, but leaving everyone in the workshop except him utterly unaware of it. They would fret all evening and nothing would get done, but at the end of the night, North would come to discover he had everything he needed and no child would be left giftless. 

Jack was still a Guardian of Childhood, after all. The kids came first.

Jack began icing the stairs slowly, making them hazardous but not one hundred percent blocked until the last minute. He didn’t want to raise the alarm bells until there was nothing any yeti could do, and he wanted Pitch to have all the time he needed to transfer the wheel and prepare the space to his liking. Exactly as planned, the yetis began to freak out about the stairs just in time to be caught at the bottleneck where they tripped over each other trying to stop Jack, which rendered them completely unable to stop Jack.

Then he built a steep slide that led to the ground floor, nearly impossible to climb with how slick slowly melting ice could be, that he tricked and tripped any yeti who happened to be on the wrong side of his blockade onto. Their cries of outrage as they slid down possibly the most fun slide in temporary existence were music to Jack’s mischievous ears. 

Then Jack iced as many elf doors as he had found shut one by one, icing and removing elves as he came upon them. There weren’t too many. They had a tendency to loiter where the cookies were, and there weren’t any cookies up here. 

By the time Jack entered their Roulette Room, Pitch already had North strung up on the wheel and slowly turning around and around, as if just to prove it worked. When the large Guardian’s eyes finally landed on Jack, the look of sheer  _ betrayal  _ on his face made the frost spirit burst into unapologetic laughter. North was buying it hook, line, and sinker. He truly had no idea that Christmas wouldn’t be ruined. It was now up to Pitch to keep him like that until nightfall.

A job that the Nightmare King was enjoying  _ way too much.  _ He was being a little ridiculous with the spinning. It was spaced out enough to not make North  _ sick,  _ but it really was beautifully crafted. What could he say? He impressed  _ himself  _ sometimes. 

“This is a good look for you, big guy,” Pitch taunted, chin propped on a finger like he was studying a piece of fine art, “Just imagine what the children would think…”

“You won’t get away with this, Pitch,” the Guardian of Wonder argued, still trying to break free from the shadows. To him it seemed those shadows had a much stronger hold on the Guardian of Fun. “Why you are helping him, Jack?! What has he done to you!?” 

“Oh…” This was too much fun. Pitch slinked up behind his one and only accomplice, draping his dark arms over the frost spirit’s shoulders and leaning in suggestively, “Nothing he didn’t  _ want… _ ” 

"That's actually fairly accurate," Jack agreed passively, spinning his staff in a playful mockery of North's current position, "He's pretty good about asking for consent first."

As much as he was the Boogeyman, he was a Boogeyman with  _ class _ . 

Pitch pulled away slowly with a subtle little nuzzle at the back of Jack's neck, the last bit of attention he allotted himself to give the boy before returning to the not-so-jolly Cossack. He kept his pace slow and steady, like he had all the time in the world. "Just think of it North. All those children who've waited all year long. All of them who worked so hard to be on the Nice List, waking up to empty Christmas trees. So many hopes and dreams and  _ wonders _ shattered. How many of them will still believe in you after that, hm?"

"Stop stop! Stop saying these things!" North cried,  _ horrified _ and  _ oh _ Pitch could taste it. It was delicious and how could it not be? Being a Guardian meant everything to North. He never knew the struggles of trying to get by  _ without _ believers until Pitch threatened it. The man deserved a reminder of how fragile his power actually was. 

But it seemed he wasn't done with the sympathy card. 

"You really want this, Jack? You are sworn to protect children! You will hurt all Guardians doing this."

Jack was in a unique position of getting the rare opportunity to  _ choose _ his fun, here. North really was devastated, but Pitch was  _ thrilled _ . He could flip that on its head with just a few words, but he wouldn't. North was just going to have to take one for the team.

Speaking of, the Cossack really did think he needed to remind Jack about the kids, as if Jack ever forgot. It was... an unhappy reminder that the other Guardians, while meaning well and certainly liking him enough, still really didn't get him. Maybe tonight would enlighten North. Or maybe it wouldn't. 

All the same, "I guess the real question, North, is how much do you  _ believe _ in me?"

"What do you mean? Is this  _ joke?" _ North asked with wide eyes that were decidedly  _ not _ filled with wonder, "You are helping Pitch Black! What am I to be believing?"

Jack was ever so slightly saddened by North's  _ lack _ of belief in him, but his fear wouldn't be as great for Pitch otherwise, so Jack could overlook it this time. The whole point was to make him panic, after all. 

So Jack shrugged and hopped up to perch on the edge of a table, "That cold and dark make a pretty good team, I guess."

"Perhaps," Pitch had to cut in, looming threateningly over his prey, "even a better team than wonder and hope and dreams and fun. What do you say? Would you believe me if I told you that Jack came to  _ me? _ That this was  _ his _ idea?"

"Cannot be! You are a monster, Pitch," North  _ almost _ didn't sound so convinced anymore, and the amount of fear Pitch was reveling in  _ tripled, _ "Guardians will defeat you again."

Jack laughed, inappropriately loud. Pitch didn't need defeating so much as handling or world domination would be on the horizon all over again. But the best part of that was how North had shouted it from a roughly one hundred and sixty degree angle toward the floor like he could do anything about it. It seems the Guardians had a ton of faith in their strength, but not in their devotion.

It was quite funny. Or Jack was high on Pitch's fun again.

"The other Guardians would have to figure it out before tomorrow morning to matter, North," Jack pointed out kindly, "and I just don't think that's what Bunny is paying attention to, today."

That wasn't the part North cared about. It was the part that was left unspoken that was devastating. "Is... is it true then, Jack? Is this your idea?"

"Not all of it, of course," Jack offered with a smile, "Just the general idea. Pitch is the planner, not me."

“Pitch is  _ manipulator.  _ Can you not see?!” 

“Come on now, North,” Pitch took another spin at the wheel before he sauntered his way back to his seated frost spirit, “Don’t you know Jack better than  _ that?  _ He’d only go along with it if it sounded like something  _ fun _ …”

Once he was standing in front of Jack, Pitch was completely unaware of whatever odd angle the other Guardian was at. He stared into those blue eyes, smirking, fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to stroke that beautiful face, “Are you having fun, Jackie Boy?”

Jack met that gaze wholly unafraid and answered honestly despite their company, "I always have fun when you're having fun, Pitch."

And now the Boogeyman was fighting the urge for a kiss. Such an admission made his heart pound just a little faster, escalating his happiness from the knowledge of Jack  _ wanting  _ to spend the holiday this way. “That might be a dangerous thing to say…” 

“Is this because of nightmare sand?! Jack has fun when  _ children  _ have fun! Children will be  _ miserable! _ ” argued Santa Claus in spite of the way the last spin had yet to come to a stop. 

Jack shook his head with another laugh, wondering if he should fight the blush Pitch's intense stare was warming in him, "You definitely didn't see me last Halloween."

“Oh, he was  _ fantastic  _ last Halloween,” Pitch confirmed, face leaning in just a touch closer… He really wanted to touch Jack right now, but that wasn’t what this moment was about. It was definitely an enjoyable stalling tactic though. 

“Jack…” North almost sounded sad, like he’d  _ lost  _ someone, “Wish we had stopped you. This is no good for Guardian...”

"Your definition of Guardian is awfully narrow," Jack commented idly. Leaning close to Pitch as he slid off the table, Jack never broke eye contact and dared him to miss the significance of this, until he stepped past and faced North again, "Life's no fun without a good scare."

....

Was it too much to say he loved Jack a little bit right now? Because Pitch loved Jack a little bit right now. 

The Nightmare King could not contain his grin, and risked saying something detrimental to his reputation if he spoke, so he bit his tongue and just enjoyed Jack's quoting for all it was worth. 

"This is more than scare!" North was getting animated again, "Only  _ you _ are having fun here. A Guardian is meant to look out for  _ everyone else!" _

Jack shrugged, "Or maybe I know something you don't. Doesn't matter, does it? You can't do anything while you're on that wheel."

"Man in Moon would not like this for you, Jack. We will send Boogeyman back to his hole and have long talk after."

"Or you guys could have listened to me from the beginning," Jack argued, tossing his staff from hand to hand while circling his fellow Guardian, making him try to turn his head to follow, "It's very revealing that you guys only approve of me when I do what you tell me to." And he wished he wasn't talking from so close to his heart. "But I'm forever eighteen, North, it's in my nature to rebel."

"Is one thing to be rebel. Is another thing to help Pitch harm Guardians."

"You talk like you know everything, North," The Guardian of Fun chastised lightly, "I assure you, you  _ don't." _

“What I am missing, then?” North’s voice sounded stern,  _ frustrated _ , and Pitch hovering in his peripheral vision was not helping. “Explain to me, Jack.”

“The whole point!” Jack cheerfully informed, holding his hands out, staff raised, like it could make the point bigger and harder to miss. But then he reeled himself back in and winked with a smile, “But that’s okay. You have a few hours to figure it out.”

And Pitch’d had enough of the melodrama. It was his last chance to have a little fun before the end, so he once again made his presence known, giving the wheel a little spin before he hopped  _ on  _ it, gleefully stepping in the open spaces between North’s bound limbs as he made his taunts.

Christmas jokes were made, gambling jokes were made, and when he was feeling it, the Oogie Boogey song  _ was  _ eventually serenaded to his personal Santa Claus. The look of horrified confusion on the Russian’s face was  _ so  _ worth it. 

As was the look of admiration on Jack’s. So it wasn’t being sung to  _ him  _ this time. That was okay. Everything was more real this time around and the effect was still the same. Jack swooned, if only in his own mind.

It was  _ hard  _ not to give the true plan away when North would demand answers every chance he got and Jack had to keep coming up with ways to avoid them. He was a prankster, sure, and he had told his fair share of lies, but  _ man,  _ the sheer  _ quantity  _ he had to come up with was a challenge. 

He kept active, dancing around and perching on furniture and icing windows and spinning the wheel, so as not to give away his own restless anxiety about the ticking clock. It was getting closer and closer to the end, but North didn’t know that and Jack wanted to make sure he didn’t catch on. Jack wouldn’t let their fun be ruined because  _ he  _ was terrible at staying still. 

_ Finally  _ they reached nightfall. Not nightfall  _ exactly,  _ but that tiny window just before when Jack had prepared lines and cues again. He watched the clock excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and taunting North, “Here it comes! Only a couple more minutes until the sun sets on Christmas Eve for the first time!”

“I hope the yetis didn’t panic  _ too  _ much and bothered to load the sleigh for you,” the winter spirit mused theatrically, fingers on his chin while he leaned on his staff, “I mean, you have a  _ huge  _ job, tonight! Delivering gifts and candy to every single child  _ all over the world  _ before they wake up and see you! Eating all those cookies so they know you were there! You’ll have to work  _ so fast  _ and rush from house to house using  _ every single second _ to get it done but it’ll only happen if you start…”

Jack trailed off meaningfully, staring at the clock, tapping his foot, “Right…”

Pitch was moving silently behind the wheel, North far too distracted by Jack’s acting to pay much attention. He was eyeing Jack with miserable, devastated eyes that immediately hardened with a determined glare when the Guardian of Fun twirled at the last second toward the door and slammed his own ice barrier on the stairs with his frost lightning, “Now!” reducing it to a pile of slowly melting ice cubes. Pitch released the shadows on North’s limbs at the same moment and it didn’t even seem like North properly noticed, so fast was he off the wheel and running to his sleigh.

Jack flew in the opposite direction, laughing maniacally when he slammed into Pitch’s arms, immediately transported away from the workshop and the chaos that would remain the whole night there. They didn’t need to stay and watch. North would get it done because he had to and none of the feelings present would feed either Pitch or Jack. It was better if they weren’t around for the yetis to yell at.

They had their own after party planned, and it didn’t involve anybody else.

Pitch was still laughing when they appeared back in the lair, emerging from the shadow of the globe. With Jack in his arms, he immediately backed the other spirit up against it and consumed those smiling lips in a feverish kiss. Oh stars, it'd actually  _ worked _ . They'd pulled it off and North's fears had Pitch  _ all _ kinds of charged up so what better way to expend some of that energy than with the partner that had made it all possible?    


That and he'd been craving a kiss since they had North pinned to the wheel. 

When he'd gotten the worst out of his system, Pitch lightened up the kiss. Just the right amount so he was able to speak against Jack's mouth, "You were brilliant..."

"You were amazing," Jack answered immediately. A bit of a crazed giggle escaped him and then he was asking, "North was downright  _ miserable _ ; I hope you fed well...?"

And how sweet was that? Pitch smirked and gave the frostling another quick helping of tongue for his consideration. " _ Too _ well. You spoil me, Jackie Boy..."

The Guardian laughed, still giddy from Pitch's enjoyment, which definitely wasn't waning now, "Is that supposed to be a term of endearment?"

"Hn," Pitch smirked, nuzzling against Jack's nose, "You tell me. Are you endeared?"

Jack shook his head with a broad smile, "Actually, I've felt mocked every time I've heard it."

"Good to know you're so clever." 

"But I'd like a term of endearment," Jack admitted with a coy tilt of his head, "I mean, that's a thing boyfriends do, right?"

…

Boyfriends? Did Jack just say that? Was it  _ true _ ? 

Pitch thought he might be more opposed to the idea- the Boogeyman with a  _ boyfriend _ \- but honestly it made him feel ...ridiculously happy. Labeling it was a sign of Jack’s commitment, that as of the current moment, he wanted to be partnered with no one else. They were  _ together  _ and  _ exclusive  _ and Gods, he wanted to do so much with the frost spirit...

He started with another kiss, grinning throughout, and brought his hand around to cup the side of Jack’s face. That was staring at  _ him.  _ How he’d so thoroughly captured this Guardian’s attention, Pitch didn’t think he’d ever know. “I suppose it is… What shall I call you then, hm? My darling Snow Prince?” 

Jack could not help the amused snort that burst out of him. After all that silent tension and anticipation, such a ridiculous and pompous title... 

Was actually one hundred percent expected from the  _ Nightmare King. _

"If you want, Pitch," Jack indulged with a smile, staff fallen to the floor so both of the frost spirit's hands could creep over Pitch's shoulders, "If that's how you think of me."

It ...was strange how the sound of that staff falling to the floor was a  _ turn on  _ for Pitch. He made Jack drop his staff  _ a lot,  _ and he knew quite well how attached the Guardian was to it. 

But apparently, he was more attached to Pitch, and the shadow man stroked his thumb over Jack’s bottom lip delighted with the knowledge. “I actually think I’m more fond of the term Snow Angel…” 

Jack was swooning again.

Or maybe he just felt like it, but he  _ felt  _ like it, and that was what mattered. That was… a really fucking good choice. It was sweet and flowery and pointlessly fluffy, like a proper term of endearment, all the while referencing the childhood snow games Jack kept pulling Pitch into. It was pretty fucking perfect. Who knew Pitch was so romantic?

Jack knew. 

And nobody cared if his eyes were just a little bit wet when he closed them and stole Pitch’s lips for a passionate little kiss.

If Pitch caught the extra shine in those icy blue eyes, he only took it as happiness. His hand curled tight around the younger spirit’s waist, holding him in as close as he wanted now that they were alone. Who ever thought the two of them would  _ want  _ to be alone so badly now that they had each other? 

Pitch carefully broke their kiss, running fingers through white hair looking at nothing but Jack, “I take it you like that one too.” 

The Guardian nodded, a little choked for words. He was feeling kind of unworthy right now. His voice was rough when he said, “Yeah. I have no idea what to call you that’s anywhere  _ close  _ to that sweet.“ But he grinned and shrugged one shoulder anyway, because he was Jack Frost and never tongue-tied for long, “But then, I guess only one of us is addicted to sugar, so…”

Pitch chuckled, drawing Jack in for a simple embrace, “It wouldn’t do for the Nightmare King to have a ‘sweet’ pet name anyway.”

Since Pitch was offering it, Jack snuggled in and got comfortable against the Boogeyman’s chest, “As opposed to a sour one?”

“ _ Scary.  _ Scary is the name of the game, Jack.” 

“I dunno,” Jack considered loftily, “Some people find sour candy pretty scary…”

Pitch scoffed, his head shaking against Jack’s until it turned into more of a nuzzle into his neck, “Then by all means, come up with the sourest pet name you can think of.” 

“It’s like you’re  _ begging  _ me to call you, ‘Warhead,’” Jack snorted.

Pitch promptly stopped nuzzling now that they were entering mocking territory. “Sounds like I’ll need to start wearing a camo robe.” 

Jack laughed, then groaned, “Oh God,  _ don’t.”  _ But then the conversation caught back up to him and he sighed. Feeling the weight of being unable to come up with a good name next to Pitch’s  _ perfect  _ one, he picked idly at Pitch’s collar and the hair at the nape of his neck, “I guess I could call you Lemon Drop… Or I dunno,” He turned further into Pitch’s neck and clung more securely around the Nightmare King’s shoulders, “I’ll probably come up with something in the middle of sex. I do my best work in the heat of the moment.”

That made Pitch grin, strategically hidden where his face was pressed snugly into that blue hood, but it didn’t remain hidden for long. “Oh Jack,” he hummed wistfully,  _ knowingly _ , and made his way up to the forever-teenager’s ear for a lick along the outside curve, “You assume you’ll be able to form words at all…” 

Jack shuddered once, then hopped up onto Pitch, wrapping his legs tightly around the Boogeyman’s waist. He loved being close to someone like this. He was  _ dying  _ to get closer still. 

“Show me.”

Catching Jack’s weight was easy; Pitch had his arms firmly around the spirit’s waist and lower back. The demand, on the other hand, was less easy to handle… It lit a fire in metallic eyes and sent an immediate pulse to his cock. Jack’s eagerness was  _ deliciously  _ arousing, and Pitch so wanted to give in to it… 

“Right now?” Pitch’s voice had even taken on a huskier tone as he walked them closer to their shared nest. 

“When better?” Jack leaned back to meet Pitch’s eyes. He wanted to watch that fire burn for him, even if the older spirit insisted on holding it back in the end. It was  _ nice  _ to be that wanted. But then a terrible pun occurred to him and the Guardian of Fun  _ had  _ to laugh and give voice to it. Bad jokes were meant to be shared. “It’ll be my own personal  _ Nightmare before Christmas.”  _ There was no way he could have said that with a straight face, anyway.

The humor  _ should  _ have doused some of the fire in Pitch’s eyes if he weren’t so damn entertained by it. He’d never had anyone that could see and talk to him about his favorite movie; it was an extremely rare treat, alright? 

He did recover enough to keep the mood going though, muffling his dying laughter with a couple kisses to Jack’s neck, “I’ll be your Nightmare before any day of the year, Gorgeous,” and then he paused when he stood before the bed, smirking, holding nothing but honest affection and growing lust in his eyes when he stared at Jack intently, “If I lay you down now, there won’t be any leaving this bed until well after Christmas.”

“Nuh uh,” Jack shook his head, smiling brightly up at the Nightmare King if only for calling him gorgeous, which was so tacky, but made him giddy just the same. “We still have to scare the shit out of Jamie later.” He waved one arm out, drawing attention to the vast amount of time they had to pass, “But we have  _ hours  _ before we need to do that, so…” 

“ _ So _ ,” Pitch continued, looking a mocking sort of apologetic, “we’ll have to pass the time some other way. Trust me when I say if we get started fucking,  _ neither  _ of us will want to leave the bed. Even if it  _ is  _ for a good scare…” But there were other things they  _ could  _ do that weren’t quite so devastating to their mobility, so he sat Jack down on the edge of the bed, kneeling before him and kissing the back of his angel’s hand. 

Jack pouted. He fucking pouted. He didn’t even care that it was childish.  _ When  _ was he going to get to feel Pitch inside him? He was  _ so fucking ready  _ for it. But he wouldn’t pressure his  _ boyfriend.  _ If Pitch wanted to wait, he could use whatever excuses he felt like. That was his right. It was  _ Jack’s  _ right to  _ pout.  _

It helped that Pitch was being kind of romantic again, though. Call it corny, but Jack really liked it when Pitch behaved…  _ King- _ like. As if his royal status really did  _ mean  _ something. Jack would never be able to pull off the same kind of effect, so it was a bit of a treat to let Pitch do it. The frost spirit hummed and rested his feet on the Boogeyman’s thigh and hip, respectively. 

“So what then?”

That pout was adorable. It took all of Pitch’s willpower to not jump on top of the winter spirit and erase it with a generous dose of tongue and lips. Fortunately, he took a breath and recomposed himself, licking the pad of one of those cool fingers while his free hand ran up the back of Jack’s leg to his knee. He definitely had some ideas, if the Guardian was willing to be patient with him. “How about we get you out of these clothes and you let me take care of you…” 

Jack’s brow furrowed, even as he squirmed his leg, dull tingles left in the wake of Pitch’s touch, “You  _ always  _ take care of me. How will this be different?”

Pitch fixed the frostling with a most unimpressed look, which probably came off rather funny considering he couldn’t seem to take his mouth away from Jack’s hand, “Well I  _ was  _ contemplating sucking your dick and maybe having a go at you with my fingers, but if you’re not  _ interested _ …” 

Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes, impressively convincing considering the way his body warmed at the words flowing from Pitch’s mouth,  _ “Of course  _ I’m interested. I’d be  _ interested  _ even if all you wanted was to rub me off through my pants like you’ve done a million times. How could you even  _ imply _ I’d be uninterested?” He taunted with a smirk, “Pitch, Baby, I’m  _ eighteen.”  _

Pitch was well aware. He rolled his eyes too, and picked up one of Jack’s feet for a few kisses like it  _ wasn’t  _ attached the the obnoxious spirit in front of him. “Then stop being a brat and get undressed before I leave you to take care of yourself.”

"All the romance," Jack grumbled irritably as he tugged at his hoodie, pulling it over his head, " _ dead _ ." But then he paused suddenly, even his toes ceasing to wiggle in Pitch's grip, and hesitantly asked, "Wait, do you mean my pants, too? You want me  _ naked _ ?"

Pitch reacted immediately to the hesitation, scooting forward between Jack’s legs and looping his arms around the spirit’s middle, “It’s up to you, Jack. I figured it might be easier for what I have planned for you, but if you’d rather keep your pants on, I can work around it.” The shade smiled reassuringly, and leaned in to place a slow kiss on the Guardian’s chest, “Of course I would  _ love  _ to finally see you naked too…” 

Jack seemed to laugh and scoff at the same time, arms naturally falling around the Boogeyman's shoulders, "And I would love to see  _ you _ naked. When's that happening, huh?"

“Hmm…” Pitch pretended he needed to think about it as he trailed more kisses across Jack’s soft skin, “It could have been right now, but someone would rather see  _ Jamie _ …” he reminded just before his lips landed on a nipple that he ran his tongue over. 

Jack bit his lip, tangling his fingers in the Nightmare King's hair. "Don't pretend you aren't eager to freak him out, too," he accused through a whine. 

Pitch didn’t bother to respond right away, enjoying the feel of cold fingers too much. His mouth was busy on that nipple anyway, pushing his tongue against it harder while he painted little figure eights. Jack tasted  _ good _ in a way that fear couldn’t, and the thought of what was essentially a ‘free meal’ wasn’t quite as appealing after what they accomplished with the Guardian of Wonder. 

Jack was topless and  _ ready  _ for him; What kind of man would he be to resist? 

“You’ve already fed me well tonight, Jack,” Pitch murmured, pulling away from his work and admiring the slickness on the other spirit’s chest, “From where I am right here, I must say there are  _ other things  _ I’m eager for. But for you, I’ll scare him as much as you want.” 

Jack was panting and…  _ failing  _ to subtly tug Pitch toward his other nipple. He wanted  _ more.  _ Who could blame him? Pitch’s tongue felt unlike anything else and the winter spirit couldn’t get enough. And it wasn’t like the Boogeyman didn’t  _ enjoy  _ it. He fucking  _ loved  _ it. Jack  _ knew.  _

“It’s supposed to be for  _ you  _ too. If you don’t wanna scare Jamie tonight, we can save it for next year…”

It was true, Pitch  _ was _ having fun with Jack’s insatiable, impatient self. He allowed his head to be guided to the other side of Jack’s chest and nosed playfully at the neglected nipple, one of his hands dragging lines up the Guardian’s side until he was able to rub one of his fingers over the area his mouth had just abandoned, “But  _ Jack,  _ don’t you want to wish Jamie a Merry Christmas?...” 

He did, actually. Jack  _ did  _ want to remind Jamie that he was there on Christmas. It was a bit selfish, but with North having  _ so many believers,  _ Jack felt… Well, when he was  _ thinking  _ about it, he felt pushed by the wayside, forgotten in the midst of so much  _ Christmas,  _ probably the same thing every other spirit felt this time of year. And he wanted to know that at least  _ one  _ child out there wasn’t  _ just  _ thinking about North today, but  _ Jack  _ as well. 

Subconsciously, Jack’s fingers had softened in Pitch’s hair, plucking thoughtfully and idly as his mind grew distracted. He was still there enough to appreciate what that finger was doing to him and to respond though, “I want to make you happy, more…”

Pitch clearly wasn’t the only one who had it in them to be  _ sweet. _

The Boogeyman put a pause on the teasing and looked up at his boyfriend, showing off the smile that was anything but a rare sight with Jack in his presence. A quick kiss was placed on Jack’s lips as he got up off his knees, but it lingered into something much longer and  _ heated  _ when he began guiding the frost spirit to lie back on the bed. 

This was going to be  _ damn  _ difficult to break away from. 

“You do make me happy,” Pitch spoke softly in the miniscule space between their lips, then chuckled, “I mean  _ really,  _ you just helped me spend Christmas Eve terrorizing the one Guardian I didn’t get a proper chance to devastate. And here you are lying in my bed ready to spend the rest of what would normally be a lonely holiday for me. I’m  _ beyond  _ happy, Jack. I will still be happy even if we take a little detour to visit Jamie because I’ll be with  _ you. _ ”

It was impossible not to believe Pitch when he was  _ kissing  _ him like that. The Nightmare King was too passionate a man to convincingly lie with his touch. Jack wrapped his whole body around the shade and planned to make it very hard for Pitch to go anywhere anytime soon. 

That was a good point about devastating the Guardians, though. Back in Spring, North had only been hurt by proxy. Of course he hadn't actually been  _ hurt  _ tonight, or anything. Christmas would be fine. But Jack hadn’t really been thinking about how Pitch might have been holding it against North this whole time.

Jack wasn’t really sure how deep the hatred between them all went. 

He could consider it another time, though. Right now, he wanted Pitch’s mouth on him. “So why am I still wearing pants?”

Pitch could absolutely  _ not  _ complain about Jack’s priorities. He smirked and immediately curled long fingers into two opposing belt loops, tugging at the only fabric that stood between him and everything his boyfriend had to offer. 

And then the Nightmare King’s head was descending again, hot, wet kisses left in his wake as he worked his way down Jack’s sternum. “I can’t get them off with your legs around me, Darling,” he pointed out, tugging the pants a little further down Jack’s hips like it was a present he had to wait for permission to open but was peeling up the tape anyway, “Not that I don’t find that incredibly sexy…” 

Jack’s legs obediently fell, but his hands clutched possessively at Pitch’s shoulders. “I know you do. I can literally feel it,” he informed flatly, quirky smile in place as he wiggled further back on the bed to make more room for the two of them. He might have  _ helped  _ remove his pants, if he couldn’t  _ also  _ tell how much Pitch was enjoying getting to do it himself. 

Jack was aggressive in his passivity. 

“Such a cocky little brat you are,” Pitch grumbled, though he was mostly taken with his next task of undoing Jack’s belt when the pants wouldn’t budge any further. It was kind of unfair that the frost spirit could read him like that so it was a good thing he  _ trusted _ the young Guardian. At the same time, if he was able to read  _ anything  _ off Jack, it would be an unpleasant, very different situation, so he would just have to deal with the power imbalance. 

You know, until he rendered Jack completely incoherent. 

Belt unclasped, Pitch let the sound of leather sliding through denim permeate their intimate atmosphere as he slowly unthreaded it and let it drop to the floor. Maybe one day when Jack had more experience, they’d play with that belt more, but right now… 

Right now, it was time for Pitch to celebrate Christmas. Jack’s pants were off in a matter of seconds, all of the shadow man’s patience used up in the removal of the belt, and when Jack was finally exposed to him in all of his naked glory, Pitch had to stop and stare. 

Jack was perfect enough to make his heart hurt.    


There was so much flawless, untouched pale skin that Pitch wanted to taste and mark and make  _ quiver  _ under his hands, and his prime target was nested between those beautiful legs. The noise that came out of him was somewhere between a hungry growl and a pleased purr, gray hands smoothing up from Jack’s knees to his chest to really get a feel of his body. 

The Guardian sucked in a slow breath that he held until those hands finally stilled, head tilted back and eyes closed in sensational bliss. He  _ was  _ untouched. He had never felt another’s bare skin against his thighs like that. Especially not like  _ that.  _ Even without the new experience and his sixth sense, Jack would feel  _ loved  _ by that touch. It was indulgent, and exploratory, and  _ reverent.  _

Jack had all but given up on ever feeling something like that. 

“Oh God, Pitch…” he sighed, a faint whine in his tone. He could already tell he was going to be overwhelmed by this. The emotions alone were going to do that, and Pitch would ensure his nerves were shot, too. 

_ He couldn’t wait. _

Pitch was already buried in the Guardian’s neck, working on a fresh new hickey whilst his hands finished their journey traveling up the length of Jack’s arms. Which meant it was time to go back  _ down.  _

His fingers paid special attention to Jack’s nipples again, his sides, his hips, and slowed to a massaging crawl when he was at the snowy sprite’s thighs. Yeah, he was going to need to give  _ several  _ hickeys tonight. 

“You really are gorgeous, Jack,” Pitch whispered, teeth grazing over Jack’s pulse, “I want to taste every last inch of you…” 

Despite everything, Jack's legs had kicked themselves back up around the Boogeyman's middle, the Guardian's need to cling outweighing all practicality. He hadn't known his thighs could  _ feel _ like that. "Go for it," the frost spirit encouraged, a long moan lacing every word, "Don't forget, we have  _ hours _ ."

“Mmm…” Pitch hummed thoughtfully from where his mouth was sucking on Jack’s collar bone, recovering from the jolt of arousal he got feeling those legs latch onto him again. It meant he could only really feel up the outsides of Jack’s legs, but there was the added bonus of reaching his ass more easily. Pitch didn’t hesitate going for a good grope. 

“I don’t think hours is long enough. I could map you out for  _ days  _ in this bed…”

"Or you could map me for hours, take a break, then start again tomorrow," Jack cheekily replied, toying with Pitch's collar and squirming beneath him. Pitch grabbing his ass was hot already, his  _ bare _ ass was like a million times better. "We have forever, Shadowman. Literally."

Pitch liked the sound of that. Liked it so much that he returned to Jack’s neglected nipple for a thorough tongue lashing, hands feeling up the backs of the frostling’s calves and knees. Forever with Jack Frost…. He was going to  _ need  _ forever at the rate he was becoming addicted to the other spirit. Already he’d experienced what it was like to not have Jack’s presence with him and it was shocking just how  _ incomplete  _ he felt. 

Pitch had to wonder if Jack felt the same, but he posed the question casually, “Think you’ll want to stick around the Shadowman for that long, Jackie Boy?”

Jack smiled. That was subtle, but not subtle enough. His eyes blissfully closed when he clutched at the back of Pitch's neck, "Keep making me feel like this and I won't want anything else..." He was pretty sure he could lie here getting licked forever; there was no question considering all the other things Pitch did to him. 

An answering smile grew on Pitch’s lips around the little nub he was working gently with his teeth. It was nice to hear, but he didn’t believe it was that simple, as much as he would have loved it to be. He’d ask again in a few years. Maybe. If they lasted that long. 

Pitch could at least be secure in being Jack’s one and only  _ first.  _

His kisses continued to travel lower along the Guardian’s midsection, pausing above Jack’s navel for a little nibble. Then he raised one of his hands to brush the back of his fingers over inner thighs that he fully intended to mark later, “I’ll do my best, but you won’t be a virgin forever.”

“I don’t really consider myself a virgin  _ now,”  _ Jack informed lazily, fingers twirling Pitch’s hair as he basked in the feel of teeth on skin. His thigh twitched at the gentle touches, and he was caught in a web of anticipation, but he still had enough presence of mind to make his point, “We’ve gotten pretty sexual so far, even if you haven’t been  _ in  _ me, yet. That feels more like a new  _ part  _ of sex than, you know, my first time having it, after all this.”

“Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you,” Pitch breathed, ghosting over the base of Jack’s dick that was still coming to life. It was such a curious thing, but he knew how slow blood pumped through the ice spirit’s body. He also  _ knew  _ Jack had to be aroused mentally for him to be staying put like this; the physical effects just had to catch up. 

He needed to get that heart pumping a little faster. Pitch sank down again, parting his lips for his first taste of Jack’s balls. 

Jack was pretty overwhelmed. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t known that was a thing people did, or anything. He just hadn’t realized Pitch was going to do it  _ right now.  _ Or that it would feel  _ like that.  _ In fact, it was probably more arousing because it was Pitch and Pitch was doing it  _ to him  _ than the actual sensation itself. But it was still a tongue and lips on his balls and  _ holy fuck  _ that was hot. And Pitch  _ wanted  _ to do this to him. Pitch was  _ enjoying  _ himself. Jack…

...was overwhelmed.

His legs had nearly kicked out in shock at first. He resisted the urge to squeeze with his thighs and trap Pitch’s face there  _ forever.  _ Instead he sucked in a breath and let out a groan, toes curling into Pitch’s sides, the rest of his body resolutely still. After all, this was just the  _ beginning. _

Pitch was  _ so  _ enjoying Jack’s reactions. With a smirk, he kept on with his playful little licks and used his hands to carefully direct those snowy white legs to the side, spreading them  _ further  _ apart for Pitch’s convenience and _ much  _ visual pleasure. This was something straight out of a fantasy- Jack Frost, hard and exposed to him, trapped under his body, eagerly awaiting more with his legs wide open. He couldn’t see his angel’s face but even just feeling those toes was a turn on. He  _ wanted  _ to give Jack more. More than he could possibly stand. 

But, a little bit at a time. “Relax, Jack,” Pitch murmured softly, physically feeling the tension in the other spirit’s limbs, “Just enjoy the ride. I promise I’ll take good care of you.” And he also knew  _ Jack,  _ so before he got hit with a snarky comeback, Pitch took the frostling deep into his mouth until his lips met the trunk of the boy’s body. 

Jack really didn’t mean to be so tense. It was just the end result of so much  _ pleasure  _ coursing through him. After all, how was he expected to  _ control  _ the way his back arched, his head tilted, his fingers clenched, and his mouth cried when something as warm and wet and slick as Pitch’s mouth surrounded his cock? And  _ sucked?  _

It didn’t matter. Jack had more or less forgotten everything Pitch said by the time he could pull air back into his lungs. That was Pitch’s fucking  _ throat  _ he could feel with his dick. His  _ dick.  _ And that  _ tongue  _ and… and where the fuck were his teeth? Jack could swear they were in his mouth a minute ago. 

And that was when Jack decided Pitch had a magic mouth.

Pitch planned to use that magic to cast a thorough spell of ecstasy on the Guardian. Jack still felt  _ cold  _ against his tongue despite the muscle being hard, but he kind of liked it. A reminder that this was  _ Jack  _ he was with and there wasn’t another soul worthy of this kind of attention from the Boogeyman. He sucked and licked and swallowed around Jack like he was a delicacy even rarer than his favorite seasonal ice cream. His ears were perked for even the slightest sound out of his lover, not wanting to miss a single effect on any one of his senses while his head moved back and forth in a steady rhythm. 

But Pitch hadn’t forgotten that this was only  _ half  _ of what he wanted to do. In the background, the shadows began to move, Pitch searching in the dark for something in the midst of literally blowing Jack’s mind. Eventually, his shadows returned with a small bottle and dropped it on the bed for his convenience. Gray hands were on the move once more, caressing and cupping Jack’s ass, carefully spreading him more apart so he could push his thumb against the eternal teenager’s entrance, hinting at where he intended to go next. 

_ “Oh, fuck yes!”  _ Jack cried, thrashing a little before his feet found braces and lifted his hips in invitation. He had begun to fucking  _ adore  _ it when Pitch fingered his ass, even if the Nightmare King never pushed inside, and honestly, that part was starting to  _ kill  _ him. He had no idea what it was going to feel like, no idea if he would really  _ like  _ it, but his mind and heart  _ craved  _ that contact. He desperately wanted Pitch that close to him, and if it was anything at all like being fingered on the outside, he was going to be addicted to it.

Pitch was beginning to suspect that Jack liked his ass played with  _ far more  _ than his dick. It was charming, not to mention  _ hot as Hell _ , and Pitch  _ liked  _ that he was learning all the different quirks and subtleties that made up his boyfriend. It was going to be his mission to become the Guardian’s perfect lover. 

And with all that in mind, Pitch figured that his mouth might be appreciated more elsewhere. Of course he didn’t leave Jack’s cock wanting, one hand moving up to stroke him to the same rhythm he left off with, but his acute attention rested below where he was nuzzling at the soft rounds of flesh, kissing between them… It was a little harder to reach with only one set of fingers holding him open, but Pitch determinedly found his target, painting a warm, slick line over it. 

He wouldn’t have guessed that the first time he penetrated Jack Frost, it would be with the tip of his tongue. 

And given that Pitch was the think-ahead planner between the two, neither did Jack Frost.

It was absolutely painless, one hundred percent pleasureable, and devastatingly sexy. He hadn’t been sure if it was really going to happen when Pitch started literally kissing his ass, but he was thrilled beyond compare that it did. That was  _ three  _ new experiences tonight; Jack was on a fucking roll. His elation was expressed in hoarse gasps and breathless cries, sheets twisted between his fingers as he fought to keep himself open and easily accessed because  _ fuck  _ if it was his own fidgeting that would interrupt something  _ this  _ amazing. 

Oh God, Pitch was inside him finally and Jack never thought it would feel like this…

Pitch himself wasn’t quite prepared for how much it would  _ mean _ . He was taking away something that Jack would never be able to reclaim. Jack was granting him this precious gift just as much as Pitch was granting pleasure. And Jack was most  _ certainly  _ pleasured, squirming on the sheets the way he was. 

Fuck. He wanted to feel this tightness on his  _ cock _ , not his tongue. He wanted them to  _ connect _ , be as one body, moving in tandem where they could experience their bliss  _ together.  _ It made the shade hum against the sacred space he was invading, his tongue thrusting in, fluttering around wildly as far as he could reach, pulling out three-quarters of the way, then repeating. Oh stars and it even felt  _ warm  _ inside, warm for Jack anyway, and Pitch could only imagine what it would be like to sink deep into that mild heat… 

He needed to explore this space more. It was going to fucking kill him, make his dick unbearably hard, but Pitch didn’t care. With the help of the shadows, he managed to lube up a single finger, a faint scent of pumpkin spice wafting in the air, and then both tongue and digit pushed their way inside.

_ Four.  _ That was  _ four  _ new sensations and Jack was  _ ecstatic.  _ He didn’t care that Pitch’s long finger was a little bit uncomfortable, or that his ass was feeling  _ really  _ wet and sloppy by now, because his ass was feeling this at all and Jack only wanted more.

...It seemed like it shouldn’t be able to fit, Pitch’s tongue and his finger at the same time. Like there just wasn’t enough room at his asshole to accommodate, and yet he could distinctly feel the rough, textured pressure of a finger just below the slick, soft slide of what he knew to be a tongue. And that might be his new favorite thing: feeling two sensations at once and getting the opportunity to stop and  _ feel  _ them, really feel them, and how they were different. 

That those sensations also made him feel ridiculously  _ good _ didn’t hurt  _ at all.  _

The fact that his legs were starting to cramp, however, absolutely did. Jack whimpered pitifully, struggling to hold his position even as his legs began to shake from tension born of pleasure and pain. He couldn’t help a little impatient buck when he asked, “Sh-should I turn over? Maybe?”

Pitch had to pause and take a very audible breath. How in the world had he done anything even  _ remotely  _ worthy of being allowed to witness Jack Frost offer his ass to him? He wasn’t even  _ seeing  _ it yet, and his dick was leaking. That and he’d still yet to fully see  _ this  _ side of the younger spirit’s body. The curve of his spine, the dip of his shoulder blades, the expanse of his thighs… Yes his ass was beyond enough to get him all riled up, but Pitch wanted  _ everything.  _

Unfortunately, in order to make that happen, he needed his tongue back to speak and his finger to withdraw so the transition would be as comfortable as possible. The Boogeyman picked his head up after a quick kiss on Jack’s thigh. “It will make things easier for me to reach, yes, but only if you’re okay with it.” 

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” Jack grumbled, immediately lowering his hips to the bed and turning on his side. It became quickly apparent that he had misjudged the amount of shifting and adjusting turning over would take, but if it meant his legs could relax and he could just…  _ writhe  _ under Pitch’s mouth for a while, it was worth it. 

Pitch scooted out of the way of Jack’s legs so he could complete his turn, and then he was right back on top of him, admiring all those curves and defined muscles sculpted into flawless flesh. His hands started feeling out the Guardian’s back while he attached his mouth to the boy’s nape, sucking with the intent of leaving another little imprint. He wasn’t going to waste this kind of access now that he had it. 

Besides, it was a good point to check in before he started resuming his work. “How are you feeling, Jack?” he asked in a murmur, thumbs kneading along the frost spirit’s spine.

“Impatient,” the Guardian answered honestly, but not harshly.  _ Softly,  _ as his consciousness drifted under the thorough ministrations of the Nightmare King’s hands. He hummed quietly, then bucked his hips up against the Boogeyman’s body, “I didn’t think we were starting the foreplay all over again.”

“Fear not,” the Nightmare King reassured ironically, his voice  _ nearly  _ cracking as he pressed down so their bodies were lined up and  _ Gods _ , that ass was rubbing against his aching cock, “I’m going to make you come so hard, Jack _.  _ Just want to be sure you’re still feeling good…” Because the shadows and his hands were busy smearing more lube over the spot he was moments away from returning to. 

Honestly, Jack wasn't sure how Pitch could have missed how  _ good _ he was feeling with the way his mouth kept making noises like that. He was moaning again already, and would have been pushing his ass needily into the Nightmare King's fingers except that he was so deliciously pinned under his weight. It was stifling, but made it impossible to forget that someone  _ believed _ in him and Jack was back to being emotionally overwhelmed, pressing his face into the pillows, "Fuck, Pitch, give it to me!"

A deep, _pleased_ rumbling growl trickled from Pitch’s throat as he buried his face into Jack’s neck, stealing another lungful of his addicting scent. His dick and Jack’s ass were only centimeters apart and how in the _stars_ he was able to tolerate not being inside, Pitch had no idea. But it was not because of a lack of _want._

He didn’t show the same restraint with his finger. It was sliding back inside, re-slickened, moving in slow circles, plunging just a bit deeper than before. Pitch knew what he  _ really  _ wanted Jack to experience, and was hunting around for one certain spot that would no doubt keep the frost spirit coming back to him. 

And then just because he was such a  _ considerate _ guy, “How do you want it, Snow Angel? Do you want to feel my tongue again, or do you want me to stay right here?” 

It was a hard question to answer. Pitch’s probing finger felt a  _ lot  _ more like a probing finger this time. He’d  _ really  _ liked Pitch’s tongue. But he also liked the way it felt when his lover purred his new pet name in his ear. He liked the way he was being crushed into the softness of Pitch’s bed. And he was pretty sure the finger was going to feel  _ even better  _ any minute now, and he might add more, and all of that was necessary if he  _ ever  _ wanted to get fucked.

So it actually wasn’t  _ that  _ hard of a question to answer, after all. Except for the stuttering, of course. “Stay. S-stay here. I want…  _ Nnn…” _

“ _ Tell me _ ,” Pitch whispered urgently, teeth scraping around the curve of the winter spirit’s ear. His lone pointer finger curled in a come hither gesture along the softness of those inner walls, “Tell me what you want, Jack.” 

_ “I want to feel you,”  _ he confessed in a rush, gasping the air back into his lungs a moment later. His legs were squirming and twitching again now that they weren’t holding all of his weight, his whole body trying hard to follow the miniscule movements of that finger, trying so hard to feel  _ more.  _ “I want you here, on me. I want you…”

Those words had a  _ physical  _ effect on the Boogeyman, his golden eyes fluttering closed and  _ shivering  _ at the idea that someone craved his touch that badly. Pitch was beyond willing to give it. In fact, it was also having an effect on his self control, and he ended up thrusting his finger back and forth in a mimicry of what he wished he was doing with his cock. 

“I’m here. You have me,” Pitch answered, not letting his lips move away from Jack’s skin, “There’s nothing on this Earth that could take me away from you right now.” 

It took a couple fumbling tries, but soon Jack was rocking against Pitch and the bed, following the quick rhythm of that finger as it moved inside him. This  _ was  _ better. This was already so much better. It didn’t feel… it wasn’t anything like a hand on his dick. Nothing was overtly pleasurable about it. But it still… it was  _ good.  _ Jack  _ liked  _ it. Jack liked everything about it. About  _ this.  _ Being pinned under Pitch, in Pitch’s bed, with Pitch’s finger up his ass. It was intimate and exciting and arousing and reassuring and life-affirming and his dick was  _ so hard.  _ Even guessing that sex would be a special experience hadn’t prepared him for how very  _ emotional  _ this was. Was  _ going to be.  _ He could have watched a million people, couples, groups go at it and  _ never  _ known it was like this…

All he could do was moan, “Oh, God,  _ Pitch…”  _

And then he squirmed just the right way and suddenly he was screaming the same,  _ “Oh God, PITCH!”  _

It was a sound that brought a flush to even the  _ Nightmare King’s  _ cheeks. 

But now that he’d found what he was looking for, Pitch wasn’t about to let it go. Gods above, he’d never felt  _ this  _ hard before in his long existence. The agonizing tightness in his pants was secondary to the tightness around his finger. With the tip, he probed and mapped and massaged that little node that wrought such a  _ lovely  _ sound out of Jack Frost. Pitch wanted to hear his name again, as many times as he could, in as many tones of ecstasy as he could discover. 

“You are so fucking  _ sexy,  _ Jack,” the Boogeyman breathed hot and heavy into the winter spirit’s ear, “I want to fuck you so hard. We’d make this entire globe shake…” 

Jack was whimpering between surprised shouts and pleading for more. Pleasure kept spiking right up his spine and he couldn’t stay still.  _ This  _ was like a hand on his dick, except more intimate and more exciting and more… well… certainly harder to do to himself. But the pleasure was the same: all-consuming and impossible to ignore and so, so good and so much more potent when it was Pitch’s hand doing it to him instead of his own.

And he kind of really wanted to reply to Pitch, except he couldn’t get his voice under control long enough to do it. His fingers were clenching, one hand around the sheet and the other around Pitch’s. Even his toes were gripping the blankets when they weren’t reflexively kicking them away. His head was  _ trying  _ to thrash, but trapped between Pitch and the pillow, there weren’t many places it could go. And Jack couldn’t even care, nearly delirious from all the new things he was feeling. 

Which meant he really couldn’t tell if it was the sheer pleasure or just how  _ utterly  _ turned on he was that made the last bit of difference when he came crying Pitch’s name. 

And  _ damn.  _ It’d almost been enough for  _ Pitch _ to come too. 

Orgasm or not though, now he had to calm down, for Jack’s sake, or he  _ was  _ going to shove the younger man down and make their metal nest rattle. He was ridiculously proud of himself for making the winterling come with just a finger; it hadn’t been the shade’s intention to add more, he just wanted Jack to experience the act of penetration and  _ feel  _ what kind of good it had to offer. 

Pitch deserved a fucking medal for sticking to his well-paced plan, as strung out as he felt executing it. 

That gray finger slowly withdrew, rubbing comforting circles into cooling skin as he went, equally soothing kisses placed along the back of Jack’s neck and spine. Gods, the boy writhed so beautifully… 

Jack was panting, worn out and so loose and  _ miraculously  _ still underneath Pitch’s weight. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air, which wasn’t a problem until it suddenly  _ was,  _ and Jack finally released the sheets from his death grip to nudge his boyfriend off with his elbow and turn over. 

It was then he realized Pitch was still hard, and it wasn’t even a thing for him to grab the Boogeyman’s robe and pull him close again. The Guardian of Fun reached down with his other hand to cup Pitch through his pants and rub incessantly into his groin, casually, carelessly pleasuring the Nightmare King while his nimble legs tied themselves around one of Pitch’s elegantly long ones. And then, with a pleased little smile, Jack settled back into the bed to enjoy the way all of his skin tingled and the sounds Pitch could make.

….Was it odd that Pitch kind of liked the way Jack’s legs would automatically cling to him as much as the cold hand rubbing at his dick? Or was he just so turned on he’d gone crazy? 

The shadowman had honestly figured Jack would need more recovery time, or perhaps that was his ego, but either way the groping came as a welcome surprise, enough to have him gasping and nearly collapsing on his beautiful boyfriend. Fuck, this wasn’t going to take much at all, and Pitch had nothing in him to feel embarrassed about it.

With a long groan, he buried his face into Jack’s pale neck, hips thrusting against the other spirit’s hand in a rhythm he would have loved to fuck Jack to. If he hadn’t  _ needed  _ this so bad, he would have insisted his pants be off too, but right now it  _ hurt  _ too much to consider stopping. 

Jack was making it  _ all  _ better. There was a quiver in his thighs as he moaned and moved and locked his fingers around the frostling’s shoulders. “ _ Jack _ …  _ Mm,  _ Gods, that’s  _ so good _ …” 

The Guardian of Fun laughed breathlessly, burying his face in Pitch's soft hair in endeared amusement, "Yeah, you're pretty fucking hard right now.” Which was so hot and made Jack feel giddy even as his breathing calmed down and the tingling slowly faded, leaving behind that wonderfully loose, jelly feeling in every muscle of his body. It made it hard to keep his hand going, to keep the pressure on between Pitch’s legs, but with the obvious way the Boogeyman was enjoying it, Jack was wholly unwilling to stop. His arm would just have to figure itself out. 

It wasn’t fair that Jack was feeling aware enough to tease him already. Why the Hell was it turning him on  _ more? _ ...    


Pitch groaned a needy sound. He just adored that voice, that reminder of who he was with in this moment while those icy fingers drove him out of his sane mind. “I can…. honestly say,” he was panting, rasping out the words that were probably unnecessary, “I’ve never… never been  _ this _ hard before…” 

Unnecessary, maybe, but Jack liked them anyway. There was a wide grin on his face that he tempered by seeking out Pitch’s ear to bite and nibble, which muffled his words when he asked, “Then how come you haven’t come yet?”

“I’m…. c-close,” the big bad  _ Boogeyman  _ stuttered. Of course Jack went for the damn ears, and his strings were unraveling on contact. Pitch couldn’t even complete his sentence to  _ urge  _ Jack to keep going,  _ just a little more _ , because he was tensing up all of the sudden, thrusting  _ hard  _ against the younger spirit’s hand, and lost it all over the inside of his dark slacks with a long, muffled moan. 

Jack’s skin was practically vibrating with the sound, and it felt as if all of his orgasmic bliss had rushed back in at once. The frost spirit’s fingers continued to massage Pitch’s prick as he came, indulging in the sensation of damp pressure spreading over his palm. He did that.  _ He  _ had done that to Pitch. And as ruined as the both of them were, Jack couldn’t do anything but think about next time as his fingers felt out the still rigid shape and size of his boyfriend, “I can’t wait to feel this in me…”

Pitch… was  _ trying  _ to calm the fuck back down. He was  _ trying  _ to melt into a content little puddle and just bask for a while but… with Jack’s hand there…  _ relentless _ … And did he  _ know  _ what the words coming out of his mouth were  _ doing  _ to him? Good  _ gods _ … 

When the shade spoke, his tone was out of breath and  _ desperate _ . He was still in the midst of tingling damnit. “Fuck, Jack, I’m going to get hard again if you keep that up…” 

“Then I just get to do it again, right?” the Guardian asked hopefully,  _ teasingly.  _

Pitch bit into Jack’s neck as if it might have any chance of coaxing him to move his hand away. “Don’t you have an annoying child you need to visit?...” 

_ “Hours,  _ Pitch,” Jack argued, fingers very gentle, mindful of the oversensitivity, but still not letting it go, “We have to wait until Jamie’s asleep  _ and  _ North’s passed over Burgess. We have  _ hours.”  _

“ _ Nnn _ …” the Boogeyman responded intelligently, nuzzling into the spot he’d just bitten. He felt  _ lost  _ in his pleasurable haze, unable to stop shivering so long as that hand was still touching him. Jack may have been mindful about the sensitivity, but there wasn’t much he could do about the cold. And his body wasn’t sure it wanted to cool down  _ with  _ Jack, or heat back up. “Then you can spare me a moment or two to catch my breath, can’t you?” 

Jack sighed like Pitch was being  _ completely unreasonable  _ and finally pulled his hand away, wrapping it instead around Pitch’s shoulders,  _ “Fine,  _ Shadowman. Ruin all my fun. But next time, I want  _ something  _ to come off you.” He declared, eyeing Pitch’s robes distastefully.

Pitch promptly slumped, half on Jack, half on the mattress, and smiled as he made himself comfortable. Yeah, he was feeling good. Jack knew how to give a damn fine handjob for being the precious virgin that he was. “What’s wrong, Jackie Boy? Feeling underdressed?” 

“Feeling that  _ you’re  _ overdressed.”

The Nightmare King grinned and then covered it up by scattering some kisses over Jack’s skin. He did feel overdressed, especially now with the mess Jack caused him to make, but there was something terribly sweet about the frostling being so pushy about getting him naked. “Something you’re eager to see?”

“Yeah,” Jack rose to the bait, unashamed and eager,  _ “You.”  _

Pitch chuckled, amused by his sweet talking trouble maker. He raised a hand to trail the back of a finger down one of those pale cheeks. “Why Jack. If you aren’t able to see me after  _ this  _ long, I think it’ll break my heart for eternity. A pity though. I’m damn good-looking for a Boogeyman. You’re missing out.” 

Jack rolled his eyes and made a sound of  _ pure frustration  _ before flicking Pitch’s ear and rolling onto his side, disrupting their comfortable sprawl.  _ “You know what I mean.  _ I-” But then he stopped, eyes widening with an idea that only just now occurred to him, “You’re not-... Do you not  _ want  _ to? It’s okay if you don’t,” he was quick to reassure, “I just… I don’t want to be pressuring you, if that’s the case. You can be honest. I can be plenty naked for the both of us. It’s okay.”

Pitch was definitely missing their sprawl. 

He made a little disgruntled noise at having to move, but all of Jack’s back-pedalling, while thoughtful, didn’t make the shade feel right. He rose to his knees and leaned back to sit, eyeing Jack indulgently. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jack. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished I wasn’t wearing pants with you.” But it was the part in his robe that his long fingers were currently hovering over, waiting until those blue eyes caught it before they lowered and the robe began revealing more and more of his chest, “But I suppose I’m more ridiculous for trying to hang on to the idea of us taking things  _ slow.  _ My Snow Angel is so impatient…” 

...Jack  _ really  _  liked his pet name. It was so perverse, and it sent a shiver up his spine that thrilled him all the more as he stared dazedly at Pitch, disbelieving that he was  _ finally  _ getting to see some bare Pitch-skin. “Yeah, I’m half-convinced you’re only doing it to torture me now…” Hilariously, with how slow his blood pumped through him, his dick wasn’t even fully soft yet and he was already feeling the stirrings that meant the process was about to reverse any second now. He was forever eighteen, and so was his libido.

Pitch smirked, absolutely enjoying having Jack’s rapt attention on his body. The Guardian may have been onto him, but he figured he’d be forgiven so long as he continued to strip. With the robe hanging open, Pitch slowly let it slide down his shoulders, his upper arms… And then it faded away entirely, into the shadows, like he could have done it in seconds at any given time. “Can you blame me? The way you get when you’re desperate and wanting…  _ Mmm _ …” 

"If it's even half as sweet as when  _ you're _ hot and bothered, I completely understand," the frost spirit confessed, hands already halfway to Pitch's body before he realized what he was doing and hesitated, "...Can I?..." Pitch setting the pace was  _ agonizing _ .

Jack was adorable trying to show restraint. Pitch reached for one of those grabby hands and helped place it on his chest, right over where his heart would be. “I don’t think there’s any point in holding back  _ now _ , hm?”

"Don't make statements like that unless you're gonna roll me over and fuck me," Jack objected plainly, but his hands were already exploring, pressing his palms to the smooth planes, tracing the edges of muscles, following the curves of bone, eyes trailing his fingers as if he couldn’t believe what it was he was touching. 

Pitch wanted to laugh, but only made it to smiling, too distracted by the cold hands raising goosebumps all over his skin. That slow, learning touch was exactly what he’d used on Jack when  _ he  _ got the young man naked, and it felt  _ great  _ to have the tables turned. He would have stayed there for all the hours they had left if it meant he could watch and bask and savor everything the frost spirit was doing to him. 

Although he found it difficult to remain completely passive, so his own hands idly began trailing up and down the pale arms reaching out for him with such want. He couldn’t ignore that little comment either, “What’s the matter, Jack? That finger wasn’t enough for you?”

Jack almost rolled his eyes, but got distracted by the way Pitch’s nipples were hardening and stopped to tweak one, instead, “Why do you bother asking when you know what I’m gonna say?”

Pitch sucked in a quick breath that came back out as a little hum. The cold was  _ almost _ too much there, but at the same time, he kind of liked it. “But I  _ don’t.  _ Your first fingering and you haven’t said much. I had planned to do this in stages, you know. Two, and then three, before I finally take you. You think you’re ready for the finale right now?” 

“I’ve  _ been  _ ready, Pitch. I’m  _ wide open  _ for you,” Jack replied, throwing his arms wide and dropping his knees open to show just how much. Another slow heartbeat later and Jack’s hands were back on Pitch’s waist, smoothing over gray abs like they were  _ the  _ most interesting thing  _ in the world.  _ Which they were, absolutely. “I want it all. I want  _ everything.  _ Anything you want to do to me, Pitch, I want it, too. You  _ can’t  _ go too fast for me; I’m  _ way  _ less patient than you. But I  _ trust  _ you, and if you wanna go slow, then we go slow. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

But he was still the least mature between them, so he tweaked Pitch’s nipple again, just because.

Which earned another gasp, but Pitch was quick to muffle it when he crouched back over the frost spirit and captured his lips in a deep kiss. The visual of Jack just…  _ displaying  _ himself like that was nearly too much. It  _ was  _ too much. Pitch just also cared about the brat too much to give into it so easily. He pulled away and nuzzled at one of Jack’s ears, his hand curling around the opposite one while he defended himself, “My reason is  _ you _ , Jack. Haven’t I said before? I don’t want this to be something you regret. More often than not, the first time can be painful. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

“It  _ won’t,”  _ Jack declared vehemently, frustratedly, squirming his hips up into Pitch because that had become the thing he did when Pitch was dangling more sex in front of him like this, “because you’re so damn  _ worried  _ about it. You see? I don’t have to be nervous, because  _ you’re  _ nervous for me. I’m going to be  _ fine,  _ because _ you  _ won’t be fine if I’m not. Oh my God,” the youngest Guardian complained, wrapping his arms around Pitch and… and immediately feeling up his back because  _ wow,  _ those were muscles, “I’m just saying, don’t talk about not holding back like you’re not holding back because you totally are. And it’s okay. But you  _ totally are.”  _

“I am,” Pitch conceded quietly, his hips lowering into Jack’s in as much of a show of defeat as it was passion. It brought him closer to his breaking point of control, but  _ fuck,  _ he loved it when Jack squirmed against him like that. Liked it even better when they started moving together in perfect harmony just like they would when they finally… 

Yeah. Pitch was holding back  _ a lot.  _

Fortunately, as much as their rolling hips were revving him up, the fingers on his back made him want to melt. “Don’t think that it’s because I don’t want you. I couldn’t possibly express to you how much I  _ do.  _ But I’m also going to make you love it.  _ Crave  _ it. I’ll make it so that even the fleeting  _ idea  _ of getting it from someone else would be your own personal nightmare. Because it won’t be from  _ me _ .”

“I already  _ do,”  _ Jack whined, officially clinging to his boyfriend as he ground up into him. It felt so good. He could  _ tell  _ it would take longer this time, but exhaustion be damned, it felt  _ so good.  _ “I don’t  _ want  _ anyone else. They wouldn’t give a shit. Not like  _ you.  _ They wouldn’t  _ know  _ me like you. I want  _ you.”  _

“Gods,  _ Jack… _ ” This was one of those times where no pants sounded like a great idea. Pitch was undoubtedly on his way to his next hard-on, counter-grinding into the Guardian of Fun the way he was, listening to that confession that spurred him on and tugged at his heartstrings at the same time. He couldn’t help it; teeth sank into Jack’s neck to leave yet another mark on him while he darted a hand to the other spirit’s ass and  _ squeezed.  _ He  _ wanted  _ Jack to want him that badly, and to  _ keep  _ wanting him. “If I were any less of a man, I would have fucked you into the ground by now…” 

“The  _ cushions,”  _ Jack corrected distractedly, clearly fighting to force the words past his lips. He’d  _ had  _ a rhythm going, before Pitch had gone and made him screw it all up by bucking wildly with that hand on his ass. That was  _ still  _ hotter than words to him. “Ground reminds me too much of Bunn- _ Fuck! _ ” he interrupted himself, stretching and arching against Pitch, eagerly seeking out a repeat to the spike of robust pleasure that had just torn up his spine.

It was best that thought wasn’t completed, because Jack wasn’t supposed to be able to consider  _ anyone  _ else’s name right now. In fact, even the half that had escaped made Pitch growl possessively and  _ forcibly  _ pull Jack in tight, by his ass, right into the Nightmare King’s regrettably clothed but proudly standing dick. “The  _ darkness _ then,” Pitch amended with his lips right next to Jack’s ear, “Where you’d  _ never  _ be able to get rid of me.” 

The winter spirit cried out at the rough treatment, nails digging into Pitch’s skin as they clawed and crawled their way higher to the familiar grip of his shoulders and hair. “I don’t…” He tried, “I never-!” and it was much harder to hold on without that robe to twist his fingers into, but Jack was determined. He needed to hold on, he needed to keep Pitch  _ close,  _ because, “I never…” he began quieter, burying his face in the Nightmare King’s hair and whimpering against his ear, “...want to be alone again.”

“Never…” Pitch repeated, his tone softening while his movements did  _ not.  _ Stars, Jack was so perfect, from his body to his words to his pure and simple  _ neediness _ . Who would have guessed cold and dark would have an almost  _ obsessive  _ desire for each other? It made everything so much more fearful but  _ fun  _ and it worked for them. This growing pull between them… Pitch never wanted to see it end. “You will always have me, Jack Frost,” the shade promised just as quiet between labored breaths, his back tingling with the icy claw marks that were left on his skin. His last word came out as a dangerous whisper, and he only spoke it after sneaking his hand down between their bodies to envelop the permanent teenager’s cock in a sure fist, “ _ Mine. _ ”

" _ Yes! _ " Jack gasped, thrusting heedlessly into Pitch's hand. There was nothing that just happened that the Guardian didn't approve of. Eternal promises from the King of Nightmares? Yes,  _ please _ .

It was possible that Jack should have felt averse to the possession, but he knew himself better than that. After a few centuries of being chased away, he'd take creepy obsessive behavior and he'd  _ like _ it. ...And he did like it. The way Pitch wanted him, the way Jack could feel Pitch honestly enjoying their time together day after day... 

Not to mention Jack seemed to find creepy hot.

Now was no exception, "Pitch,  _ yes! _ "

Shit, Jack shouldn’t have agreed so easily, so  _ hotly.  _ Pitch was doomed now,  _ forever.  _

And he felt so fucking happy and turned on at the same time he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Jack was  _ his _ . Jack  _ wanted  _ to be his. Pitch was  _ positive  _ he would have come up against some resistance when he’d let that word slip out, that Jack would fiercely claim he belonged to no one but himself, and yet… If this was only a heat of the moment confession, then Pitch never wanted the moment to end. 

But first, he needed to get out of his pants. 

Finally fed up with the fabric, Pitch got up so he was on his hands and knees, pumping Jack in time with his reckless thrusts and distracting him from the lost contact by diving down for a kiss that was  _ hard  _ and heavy and wet… 

He ended up needing the shadows to help him with his task. Jack tasted  _ so _ good, it was hard to focus on anything but plundering that sweet mouth. His unoccupied hand hastily fumbled and pulled the pants down to his hips before the shadows had to take over the rest. Regrettably, his pants were  _ real  _ pants and couldn’t fade away like his robe; Pitch wondered if he needed to reconsider that decision now that Jack Frost was in his life.  _ Permanently.  _

Once free, the Boogeyman was right back down on his lover, hips glued together, and with his much larger hand, he grabbed onto  _ both  _ of their cocks to stroke them in time with the pace Jack had set. 

The distraction had worked, possibly better than even Pitch realized. With their lips firmly attached, Jack hadn’t wanted to open his eyes throughout. So it wasn’t until Pitch laid back into him and that hand was on him that he realized there had been a change at all.

And it was a change that he was  _ really  _ interested in seeing. That was  _ Pitch’s cock  _ pressed against his own and  _ oh God  _ that was sexy, not to mention how fucking  _ good  _ he felt with that hand working him so expertly, and he could stay like this  _ forever,  _ except he would be one hundred percent pissed if they came with Pitch’s pants off for the first time in ever and Jack didn’t even get to  _ see  _ anything.

So he pressed his hands urgently to Pitch’s shoulders and said as fast and as loud as he could against his lover’s lips, “Wait, wait, hold on!”

Just like on Halloween, Pitch demonstrated his uncanny ability to  _ listen _ and forced his body to stop. Jack had the ultimate say, and no matter the command, Pitch would obey it even if it hurt. He stilled his hand and leaned his head back enough to get a look at Jack’s face, lust paused to make way for concern, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Jack instantly answered, distractedly shaking his head and not even bothering to meet Pitch’s eyes. His gaze was only for the Boogeyman’s body, head lifted up for the best angle possible for looking between their legs. There was something gracefully beautiful about their skin tones together, wrapped around each other, pale, off-white and a tonal, heather gray. But Jack wasn’t looking for beauty. He was looking for dick.

And he found it. Would have been hard to miss it. Almost immediately, one of his hands was down there, tracing Pitch’s hip bone and then tangling in dark hair, just to feel what it was like on someone else.

It was like he had zero control over his hands. Or his mouth, “Holy fuck, your cock is huge.”

…

Well. Pitch… was glad nothing was wrong. That  _ would  _ have been his first and most prominent thought had there not been a cold hand in his crotch. But then Jack had to go and  _ talk  _ too, and concern was obliterated for lustful intrigue. On one hand, now that the frostling could  _ see  _ what he was trying to get himself into (or onto.  _ Into him _ .), Pitch was reassured that he was doing the right thing taking his time to work Jack up to that point. 

On the other hand, Pitch just _really_ wanted to let Jack have it and feel what huge was like. He chuckled, idly rubbing over the ridge under the head of Jack’s cock while he was on hold, “Careful or you’re going to make it bigger…” 

Jack just moaned, happily, helplessly, kicking his feet because there wasn’t anything else to do. His fingers were moving over that glorious cock, but they were exploring, not teasing, not  _ anything  _ like what Pitch was doing to him. Oh hell, the things Pitch was  _ doing  _ to him. Jack wasn’t sure that he was actually any warmer, but eyeing that cock made him  _ feel  _ like he was warmer.  _ “Fuck,  _ I want that in me.”

Along the same lines, Pitch wasn’t sure if his dick _was_ actually getting bigger, but it was sure pulsing like it was, throbbing under Jack’s touch and oh that _mouth_ of his… The boy had _no idea_ and yet he was all over his dick like it was the greatest toy since his _staff._ Pitch _loved_ it, as much as it tore away at him. “Gods, every time you say that, you make it harder and harder to tell you to wait. I _want_ to be in you. I want to know what it feels like to be surrounded by _you_.” 

Jack had a million ways he could reply to that. Words spilling into his brain that were just dying to fall from his lips, but nothing that would make it better, or add to what Pitch was saying. They  _ both  _ felt that way. They ached for each other; it was obvious. And Jack  _ knew  _ it would be worth it. Pitch was waiting to prepare him bit by bit for a reason, even if it was just to make the whole thing that much sweeter with anticipation, so he forwent words at all, pulling his hands back to wrap securely around the Nightmare King’s shoulders and drag him down into another fierce kiss.

Pitch smothered his next moan into those lips, immediately pushing his tongue into Jack’s mouth . Fuck, it would have been  _ torture  _ if there wasn’t enough good going on to make up for it. Interpreting the kiss as his green light, the Boogeyman wrapped his hand tight around their dicks again, picking up where they left off and moving his hips to their rhythm. The feel of Jack’s dick rubbing against his own, both of them leaking, fluids mingling and making his grip that much more slick… It was exquisite. He felt so good, and he could only think of one thing that would make it even better for his boyfriend (besides the obvious). 

He took advantage of the fact that Jack was still all lubed up and carefully worked a single finger back inside him. 

Jack moaned  _ louder.  _ And promptly gave up on thinking anything at all. Was he at four or five new experiences, tonight? A foreign cock pressed against his own didn’t feel the way Jack had thought it would, but then, Jack wasn’t sure he could have properly  _ imagined  _ something like this before he was here. That single finger made him lift his knees and roll his hips back, welcoming it deeper and harder and  _ more.  _ Maybe he’d score two fingers, tonight. 

Pitch really didn’t have the proper brain function to push things any further than they’d gone already. He was on a mission to re-discover that spot, like he was  _ testing _ his memory, only he was fucking his own memory over because he was also jerking them off. Oh, and tongue-fucking Jack’s mouth. Yeah, okay, he  _ really  _ wanted to make Jack lose it again. The Guardian was only making it too easy for him rolling his hips like that. 

Pitch’s search eventually dissolved into simple thrusts- he just couldn’t  _ think  _ straight when he felt this good, this  _ aroused.  _ The most he could handle was hand-up, finger-in, tongue-down, reverse, repeat, and let each amazing second push him closer to his end. 

Jack… Jack was literally being fucked from two angles and fucking a third. Best. Day. Ever. And it had nothing to do with Christmas.

It was probably a hold over from being touch-starved for so long, but Jack had a bit of a clinical mindset about this whole sex thing. Not enough to be removed from it, that would defeat the point. But enough that Jack could recognize the counter-intuitive fact that as Pitch’s aim got worse, the pleasure Jack felt got better. 

It was fucking  _ hot  _ that Pitch was losing control. 

The frost spirit wasn't in any better shape. His limbs were constantly in motion, hands clutching at Pitch’s back, arms, shoulders, neck, hair, and back again. His legs stretched, then bent, feet kicking the sheets, then pressing flat to Pitch’s calves and thighs. And he was  _ loud.  _ Humming, moaning, crying, panting, even squeaking when Pitch hit something particularly good and shocked him just right. 

It was fucking  _ adorable.  _

Pitch was honestly amazed they were still going for this long, still trying to maintain a kiss that had, at points, been nothing more than the crisscrossing of their tongues outside of their mouths until Pitch could chase them both back down Jack’s throat. He wanted to come, wanted his boyfriend to come  _ more,  _ but it was almost too good to  _ end…  _

But that squeak was actually really getting to him, and Pitch only got more determined to hear it again and again. Were he able to observe this from the outside, with a  _ rational  _ mind, he would have thought he was finger-fucking Jack  _ way  _ too hard. Too reckless, too rough, but Jack was just getting  _ louder  _ over it and it just made Pitch even wilder. 

He had no idea what their total elapsed time was. He didn’t even know which one of them surrendered  _ first.  _ There were only a few hazy moments, a couple of noisy cries, and blinding white light that shook both of them to the core. 

Pitch’s hands were sticky. Pitch’s head had collided into Jack’s chest, and that was much nicer. He could hear the moderate tempo of the Guardian’s normally slow heart and it made him smile while he, for a miraculous second time, got to enjoy that wonderful tingling along every inch of his gray skin.

Jack felt sort of transcendent. Light. Like his body weighed  _ nothing  _ and there was this weird, high tone that it took him a moment to recognize for what it was. His ears were fucking ringing. And his voice sounded a little fuzzy when he heard himself speak, “Shit, that was incredible.” his ears were ringing and his body was floating and his mind was pleasantly hazy and it took him a long while to realize that his ass was also sending some pretty specific signals to his brain. “My ass feels fucking  _ amazing.”  _

Pitch hummed a melodical and agreeable note. His  _ everything  _ felt pretty amazing right now for a hand job he’d essentially given himself. Jack made everything better. Literally everything and he nuzzled his cheek against that cool skin because he couldn’t get enough. “I’m glad,” the Nightmare King drawled, his voice low and lazy, “It’s only going to get more intense from here on...”

“It’s kind of achey,” Jack continued as if Pitch hadn’t spoken at all, wiggling underneath the Boogeyman to test out how it felt. Somewhere along the line, the fact that he was not, in reality, floating slowly registered to all of his nerves, “And kind of loose. And a little tingly. I think I can still feel your fingers…”

Pitch liked the way Jack was squirming. It reignited all the dying tingles and prolonged that wonderful afterglow feeling for more precious seconds. Pitch was basking in all of it. “That was only one finger, Jack. You’re not in pain, are you?” 

“My ass feels  _ amazing,”  _ he repeated with extra emphasis, still as if Pitch hadn’t said a word.

Pitch conceded to that with a chuckle and placed a kiss on the center of Jack’s chest. Well if he  _ insisted _ … “I believe what you’re describing is feeling  _ well fucked _ .”

The tone of Jack’s voice was so distantly  _ pleased,  _ “I like well fucked. Well fucked is good. I wanna feel well fucked  _ all the time…”  _

Pitch laughed, finding Jack’s post-orgasmic, delirious self absolutely charming. And sexy. He had the best boyfriend. “I’ll give you as much as you can stand, Jack. ...Or rather, until you  _ can’t  _ stand, as the case may be.”

“That’s a terrible joke, you should feel ashamed,” the Guardian said in a rush on a sigh. His fingers were creeping up through Pitch’s hair again, combing purposefully through the soft strands. He knew the ringing had to fade and the haze had to dissipate, but it had been fun while it lasted. Just meant they had to do it again, sometime.

“Not in the slightest,” Pitch murmured back easily, closing his eyes as he leaned into Jack’s touch. He was such a sucker for petting, nearly as bad as his Nightmares, but he was going to cash in on the delirious post-orgasm feeling too while he had the chance. “Are you saying you  _ don’t  _ want me to fuck you until you can’t stand?”

“I haven’t tried standing,” Jack was quick to answer, “You might have already done it.”

Pitch hummed thoughtfully, “I guess I am that good…” 

“We’ll find out in a few hours. I’m not going anywhere until then,” Jack reasoned evenly, wrapping his arms about Pitch’s torso to anchor himself to the bed.

Pitch could have said something all haughty about how he  _ told  _ Jack that they wouldn’t want to move once they started fucking, but he simply enjoyed the sweet moment of being held. “I’ll go where you go, Snow Angel.” He returned it as much as he could, creeping his hands up Jack’s sides. Or at least one hand. The other was being observed for the mess of white it was covered in… 

Taken by the idea of cold and dark mixing together so well, he had to bring it to his lips for a little lick or three. 

His eyes had been closed, but Pitch's extended silence coaxed Jack into opening them. Which only meant he had a great view of Pitch's moment of curiosity and immediately fell under the sway of his own, "...Does it taste good?"

It was no pumpkin spice latte, but it was less for the taste and more for its  _ meaning.  _ Which meant Pitch loved it. Loved it even more when Jack didn’t seem disgusted with it. He smirked and lifted his hand toward Jack’s mouth, a single finger hovering scant millimeters above the spirit’s bottom lip, “See for yourself.”

Never let it be said that Jack Frost was not daring. He was too curious to say no, cautiously noting the heavy smell of their combined spend and honestly liking it a great deal before he reached out with his tongue and tentatively swiped the flat of it down the side of that offered finger.

And immediately made a face, "It does not taste good."

Pitch laughed a little too loud at that face. Fuck, that was too damn cute. He let his hand fall away and leaned up to catch Jack’s lips in a kiss deep enough to erase some of that ‘unpleasant’ taste. When he pulled back to speak, he did not move far. “We’ll have to keep that in mind if you ever get curious about giving head.” 

"I'm already curious," Jack argued, hand drawn back to Pitch's hair like gravity, "I want to. But I no longer want to taste it. We'll have to experiment with that."

It was too bad, but Pitch couldn’t be upset about it. His eyes were closed as he pressed their foreheads together, still riding out the last remnants of his high. Jack made him feel good in so many other ways. He could live without him sucking his dick too. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Jack.”

In a sudden rush of potent affection, Jack kissed Pitch hard. "You're..." there really weren't any words to accurately describe just how wonderful his boyfriend was, as patient and kind and accepting as he could be. Jack was so fucking  _ lucky _ , "the best."

Pitch wasn’t about to question a kiss like that, let alone the compliment, but he  _ did  _ have to control his excitement. They needed  _ at least  _ a few minutes of rest before they got all riled up again. Winking at the Guardian, he countered, “And don’t you forget it.” 

“Can’t imagine I could,” Jack replied softly, melting back into the cushions. Pitch’s nest really was the most comfortable thing he’d ever slept in, even beating out freshly fallen snow. Snow had a tendency to harden by the time he woke up. That was always pretty unpleasant.

Pitch got settled in too, laying his head back down on Jack’s chest for all of three seconds before it dawned on him, “Am I too heavy for you? Or too...warm?” 

“You’re exactly not too warm,” Jack answered, cuddling the Nightmare King close. Fuck, he was considerate. Clearly what the Guardians had been doing wrong all this time was not considering  _ Pitch.  _ Because he was the nicest  _ ever  _ so long as you were nice to him first. Belatedly, he remembered the first question, “A little heavy, but I don’t care.”

Pitch huffed a quiet little chuckle and melted back into his boyfriend’s hold. His hands still felt sticky, and it was preventing him from touching Jack which just would not do. So he held one out to the winter spirit and requested, “Snowball please.  _ Not  _ in the face.” 

Obediently, Jack lifted a hand to place over the Boogeyman's, "Aww, c'mon, but snowball's're best when they're in your face," and left a handful of snow in its wake when it went to card through Pitch's hair again.

Pitch had to turn on his side a bit to properly ‘wash’ his hands with the melting snow, but stubbornly kept his head within easy reach of Jack. “I don’t know… I think a kiss might be just as effective and I’d much rather have that in my face.” 

Jack laughed tiredly at what appeared to be a joke in his own mind, “Kisses don’t feel like snowballs unless you’re kissing with your fist.”

“Depends on what your intent is.” Hands clean and icy cold, Pitch returned to his place and pressed them to Jack’s sides, feeling along bare hips that he kind of wanted to mark with his mouth, “If you’re trying to shut me up, a kiss is definitely preferred.”

If his eyes had been open, Jack would have rolled them, “That was just when you were monologuing.”

“I can’t promise I won’t monologue again. I’ve had lots of practice.”

“And I can’t promise I won’t hit you in the face with another snowball,” Jack argued reasonably, “I never miss.”

“I’m just informing you of my preferences,” Pitch shrugged lightly, “But I know what I’m in for courting Jack Frost.” 

Who was quiet for a timid moment before he reluctantly admitted, “Sometimes I’m just trying to make you feel good.”

“I know, Jack,” Pitch reassured, trailing fingertips up and down one of Jack’s forearms, “I don’t hold it against you, and I’m not saying I don’t like it. I just think we’ve added more to your arsenal. With  _ me  _ at least.” 

“Anyone can kiss," the Guardian shrugged noncommittally, “But only I can throw cold, soft, wet balls of concentrated fun.”

“That’s true. But I also don’t consider your kiss just  _ anyone’s  _ kiss.”

Jack groaned. He was running out of good arguments. “I kiss you all the time. You get plenty of kisses. You only get snowballs to the face on special occasions. Obviously, you should appreciate them more.”

Pitch’s brow furrowed, staring somewhat confused into Jack’s skin. Now he wasn’t being appreciative enough? How could Jack  _ not  _ see how much the shade appreciated just about everything Jack did, not the least of which was simply  _ staying  _ with him? “....Alright then. If you say so.” 

“Damn straight,” Jack agreed, also confused but… unconcerned about Pitch’s sudden lull in fun. It couldn’t be anything too bad after something so wonderful as this, could it? 

...So he let it lapse into awkward silence just long enough for Jack to  _ realize _ it was awkward, and then he was bringing a hand to his lips, cupped to grow tiny, fluffy snowflakes in his palm, and then blowing over them to scatter the fresh snow in Pitch’s hair. 

Pitch blinked, even more confused, and shivered from the added cold that was more comforting than anything. This  _ was  _ exactly what he signed up for dating the spirit of winter; random snowfall was one hundred percent guaranteed, and Pitch didn’t mind Jack playing with him. He did mind if Jack felt underappreciated though he didn’t understand it. 

So rather than roll away or shake off the dusting, Pitch snuggled further into Jack’s neck and closed his eyes. “Trying to make me a snow man again?”

“Exactly,” the frost spirit whispered, nuzzling into Pitch’s temple and enjoying that the awkwardness had passed just as planned, “A happy, snowy Shadowman.”

Pitch chuckled and let it taper off into a little hum. He placed a kiss or two on Jack’s neck, right over one of the hickeys he’d left, “I’m very happy, Jack. You don’t need to worry about that so much.” 

Jack nipped Pitch's ear gently, mildly, "My motivation doesn't have to be worry..."

“Mmm…” Pitch’s own mouth started to get a little nippy in retaliation, “Good. There’s no place for worry in this bed. I want a happy Snow Angel too…” 

Jack couldn't help but smile around the dainty shell of Pitch's ear. He was pretty sure the Nightmare King was overusing the nickname just to tickle him, but it was working so calling him on it wouldn't amount to much. He liked it. Why shouldn't he hear it too much? 

"Are you sure you don't mean nest?" So he called him out on what were the habit of female mammals everywhere, instead. 

The Nightmare King grinned. There was nothing he could say to argue it, but he didn’t see anything wrong with it either, so he continued on with his kisses and licked underneath Jack’s chin, “You love this nest, don’t you deny it.”

Jack conceded, "It's a pretty fucking cool place to lay your babies."

Pitch… didn’t want to follow that train of thought. 

He took the high road. “The only thing getting laid in this nest is  _ you. _ ” 

"What a way to declare yourself my Sugar Daddy, damn." 

“Wouldn’t that imply you’re only sleeping with me for some sort of compensation?... Or,” the Boogeyman smirked, nudging into Jack’s neck, “Is there also a Daddy kink I should be aware of?...” 

"No daddy kink," the Guardian flippantly replied, "I'm just here for the candy corn."

“....Right, of course you are.” Pitch wanted to only take it as a joke, they  _ were  _ joking, but he still had the lingering paranoia that Jack might just be using him. Not for  _ candy corn _ , but for fun and Jack  _ was  _ an adventurous teenager where Pitch was ...what he always was. Would that be enough to entertain the Guardian of Fun for eternity?... 

It was just a fucking joke. He played it off with a little shake of his head. “I… So I guess that means you’ll be leaving the nest in a couple of weeks? Candy corn becomes nearly  _ impossible  _ to find this long after Halloween…” 

Jack miraculously found the post-orgasmic strength to lift his head and act devastatedly heartbroken. He even asked in a small voice, "What?..."

Molten eyes looked up to observe the white-haired spirit curiously. “Don’t you know? It only sells around Halloween. Then they make it ridiculously cheap trying to get rid of it all to make way for boring  _ Christmas  _ candy.” 

"No..." Jack faux whimpered pathetically, "Fuck candy canes."

But then he gave a huge put-upon sigh and pulled Pitch closer, half on top of him again, "I guess I'll just have to make due with failed snowmen and ice chandeliers and dancing and serenading and electroswing and pumpkin spice and prank wars and ice cream and sex until they sell it again."

The extra affection was nice, and Pitch’s smile was a little more honest, except, “I hate to tell you but pumpkin spice is also seasonal, but that will at least last through Christmas.” 

"Fuck," said the Guardian in all his glorious eloquence. 

Pitch chuckled at having his exact feelings on the matter voiced, "Now you understand my pain."

"But pumpkin spice is a  _ spice _ ," Jack insisted gravely, "Spices don't spoil in three months. We can stock up."

"Oh I'm stocked  _ plenty _ on the spice," Pitch eased that concern right away, "But the lattes, and the ice cream, and such are all limited to the season."

"We will make our own," Jack's tone left no room for doubt.

That was… kind of sweet actually. Even if all they ended up making were cinnamon and nutmeg scented  _ disasters,  _ Pitch was touched Jack had the motivation to try. “Do you know much about cooking or baking? The lair isn’t outfitted with very many kitchen appliances.” 

“Coffee’s not that hard and ice cream is more about the stirring, anyway,” Jack waved it off, then paused, then looked at Pitch, “Wait, do  _ you  _ know much about cooking or baking?”

“I know some basic things, but otherwise I’ve never had a need for it. I  _ do _ know how to make a damn good cup of tea.”

“Your favorite food items disappear for seventy-five percent of the year and you consider that no need to learn to make them?”

“It gave me something to look forward to. It’s not like I  _ need  _ those items to survive, I just like them.”

Pitch needing something to look forward to instantly sobered Jack, but he didn’t want to comparatively depress his boyfriend by actually mentioning it, so he just cuddled Pitch tighter and didn’t.

“I’m sure they sell pumpkin spice flavored syrups for coffee and I’m  _ really  _ good at freezing things. We’ve got this. No worries.”

Pitch’s endeared laughter was huffed against Jack’s neck, thumbs brushing over the other spirit’s skin, “Hmm… An  _ iced  _ pumpkin spice latte actually sounds quite delectable…” 

“Done,” Jack promised, curious hands feeling out the shape of Pitch’s shoulder blades, “After microwaves, anything’s possible.”

“Hm,” Pitch closed his eyes, utterly content with  _ everything _ at the moment, “You give me a lot to look forward to, Jack.” 

“Are you really surprised that I’m a, ‘Sky’s the limit,’ kind of guy?”

“Not at all. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re wanting to share it with  _ me _ .” 

Jack’s fingers were idly tracing the little bumps of Pitch’s spine when he murmured, “You know what my three centuries were like.”

“I do,” the shade agreed, fighting that shudder down his back to pick his head up and affectionately cup the side of Jack’s face, “Neither of us have to go back to that again.” 

“If you know,” Jack started again, voice stronger than before as he met Pitch’s gaze and held it, “then why are you  _ surprised?  _ For the first time in my life, I’ve met someone who laughs instead of chasing me away when I suddenly dump fifty pounds of snow over their head and you think I’d rather go back to being alone than dump  _ more  _ snow on their head? Pitch, you’re crazy.”

Amused by the rant, Pitch rode his elation and went in for a quick but sensual kiss on those expressive lips. Jack really was adorable, and also probably one hundred percent right, but hundreds upon hundreds of years alone were enough to make anyone crazy. And paranoid. “I may be, but just because you found someone that doesn’t mind a good prank war doesn’t necessarily include wanting to  _ sleep  _ with them too.”

“Oh, that,” Jack shrugged one shoulder as if it didn’t matter at all, “That’s just because you happen to be hot and turned out to be a pretty great person.”

Pitch shook his head mildly exasperated, fingers tracing underneath Jack’s chin, “You make it sound so simple.” 

“It is simple,” the Guardian argued, tilting his head up because Pitch’s long fingers on his neck felt nice, “Why shouldn’t it be simple? You make me happy. I can respect you. You respect me. My dick’s interested. That’s all it really takes.”

  
Pitch indulged Jack’s silent request and let the tips of his fingers roam up and down that beautiful neck, “Emotions have never been simple for me, Jack. And interests change every day. It will take time for me to get accustomed to this, but it doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it.” 

“I know you’re enjoying it,” Jack reassured in the tone of voice that said he wasn’t doing any reassuring at all, “Your dick doesn’t lie. I just wish you didn’t feel the need to question it so much. I know you’ve been alone a lot longer than me and you don’t mean it that way at all, but it feels like doubt.”

Jack’s hands suddenly stopped roaming to fidget and fiddle together against Pitch’s skin before he could work up the nerve to finish his point.

“...It feels like you don’t believe in me.”

Pitch frowned, looking almost  _ hurt  _ at the very idea. “How can you say that?” he asked gently but insistent, “I’ve believed in you longer than  _ any  _ of your Guardians.” 

Jack looked sad, too, “But do you believe I’m gonna stay?”

Pitch’s gaze turned downwards, a touch frustrated. This had very little to do with Jack and everything to do with his own insecurities. Which he did  _ not  _ enjoy admitting to, but for his boyfriend… “I want to. I believe that if I keep you on your toes and entertained enough, you’ll stay.”

“It’s okay, Pitch,” Jack felt the need to mirror the assurances his lover always gave him in bed, about anything and everything Jack does or does not want. In the end, it’s all the same. After all this time, Pitch is new to love. “I told you, I know you don’t mean it that way. You’re just…  _ honestly  _ surprised. And I just wish you didn’t have reason to be.”

Pitch was honestly  _ doubly  _ surprised that Jack was the one sounding mature. That Jack wasn’t glaring or getting upset with him for being so skeptical and pessimistic. That Jack wasn’t even teasingly threatening him that yes, he  _ better  _ keep him entertained. And it was exactly what the solitary shadow man needed to hear. Pitch breathed a little sigh and laid his head back down on a comfortably cool chest, his arm hooking underneath the winterling’s and curling up over his shoulder to hold him close, “We made it here. That’s what matters, no matter how much I’ll end up analyzing it. But I… do appreciate your patience with me.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Jack reasoned, absolutely  _ loving  _ that new hold. He felt… tied, locked down,  _ interlocked,  _ like they were just two pieces of a whole built to support each other and never come apart once they were joined. It was poetic to think like that. Even if it was kind of unromantic to relate themselves to furniture, but whatever, “After you’ve been so  _ aggressively  _ patient with me.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, Jack,” Pitch sounded more confident, placing a kiss or three on the younger man’s collarbone, “I promise.” 

Jack smiled, and his hands returned to exploring Pitch's bare back, "I like promises from you."

Pitch welcomed the oncoming shivers and he arched up just a bit to press into Jack’s hand while he was adjusting so he could whisper devilishly near the boy’s ear, “You’ll like it a whole lot more when I make _ good _ on it.”

He froze, Jack's hands pressing down in a little cling, but his voice was steady when he teased, "Are you trying to rile me again?"

"Depends," Pitch purred, nipping at that delicate ear, then painting a hot, wet line around the curve of it, "Do we still have  _ hours _ to go? I lose track of time around you..."

Jack was losing track, too. Which made him think, “Why don’t you have a giant, dramatic, steampunk clock hanging from the ceiling somewhere? It would fit right in with your decor, and then we wouldn’t have this problem.” He was using the term, ‘problem,’ loosely. Forgetting himself in Pitch’s bed was the best problem ever, really.

"The passing of time is really the last thing an immortal spirit in isolation needs to be reminded of. Keeping track of dates and appointments implies there's someone to have them with," Pitch answered blandly, refusing to let his past make him bitter right now. He kept on nibbling Jack's ear. 

“There is, now,” Jack answered immediately, tilting his head to make it easier for Pitch to reach the tip, where he oh, so subtly wanted Pitch to nibble next. 

"There is now," the shadowman repeated, hardly above a whisper, teeth scraping over the tip of Jack's ear, then smoothing over it with his tongue. Whatever Jack wanted, Pitch wanted to give it in  _ spades _ .    


So he gently blew over the tip too before taking it between his lips to suck on. 

Jack’s whole body was alight with pleasure, rippling out from that one sensitive spot that Pitch indulged him in not letting go. It was a dream come true. His cling turned a little desperate. 

“If you don’t want to go grand like that, we can just get a little wall clock. Or a small digital with an alarm for nights like this.”

Pitch just hummed to let the Guardian know he was heard but otherwise was far too preoccupied with everything he could feel in that cling. They were quickly approaching a point where leaving the bed was not going to be an option. Without an annoying amount of  _ pain _ anyway. 

That didn't stop the Boogeyman's arms from creeping down, inching closer to that ass he couldn't seem to stay away from. 

“Mm, Pitch,” Jack moaned, squirming in the Nightmare King’s grasp, “Are you sure you can go another round this soon?”

"What makes you think I  _ can't _ ?" Pitch challenged, pulling away to try and catch that icy gaze slowly warming with lust. 

"The fact that even  _ my _ dick is tired," the frost spirit answered.

"How adorable," Pitch smiled, placing a sickly sweet little kiss on Jack's forehead, "I'll keep my hands to myself then while you recover..."

"You're an asshole," Jack glared with zero heat, "You know I like my petting."

“Mm,” Pitch nuzzled against his boyfriend’s temple, doing exactly not what he said he’d do and running long fingers through short white hair, “I suppose I’m moving too fast. We’ll wait until you’re  _ well  _ rested before going another round.”

Jack rolled his eyes. It didn’t matter what he said, now. Pitch was insisting on being a dick. So Jack went back to feeling out the way Pitch’s ribs felt through his skin, “Whatever, Sugar Daddy.”

“If that’s your term of endearment for me, I’m definitely getting the short end of the stick here. Perhaps I’ll just call you Snowball…” Pitch mused, ruffling that white mop playfully. 

Jack winced at the less-than-gentle treatment, “Who says that’s my endearment? I’m still allowed to mock you, Shadowman.”

Pitch ceased his ruffling to trail his fingers down the side of Jack’s face instead, “And I fully expect it, you brat.”

Jack sighed. Trailing fingers calmed him back down despite the words. And normally, Jack didn’t mind when Pitch called him a brat. It actually  _ was  _ kind of endearing, from Pitch’s lips. Nothing like the way Bunny would spit the word out at him, eyes hard and offensive. It was different with Pitch.

But Jack didn’t want to be reminded. He didn’t want to have to think that hard right now. He wanted to enjoy Pitch’s body against him, enjoy the wandering touch, enjoy the aftermath of orgasm, and not worry about why or why not the Nightmare King would choose to have a clock in his domain.

“I don’t wanna talk right now,” the frostling finally confessed, quietly, fingers drawing uneven circles over Pitch’s lower back, “Is that okay?”

Pitch had to wonder if he’d said or did something wrong, something that perhaps triggered something from Jack’s own lonely past, but the boy wasn’t shutting down or pulling away. He distinctly felt chilly fingers on his skin, still eager to explore and it was all the convincing he needed not to question it. 

He simply nodded, curled a finger underneath the beautiful man’s chin, and drew him in for a soft kiss. 

So Jack only smiled and whispered, “You’re the best,” before letting everything be silenced by Pitch’s lips against his.

The Guardian of Fun was impressed by how long they remained quiet. He had been certain that, with how much Pitch liked talking and how Jack tended to say whatever was on his mind, they’d be holding conversation again in ten minutes. But they weren’t. 

Their mouths remained occupied with other things long into the night, and Jack forgot to keep time at all. It wasn’t until the jingling alarm he had set on his phone just in case went off that he remembered to get out of bed and scare Jamie, and even then it took them much longer than necessary to get redressed for it. Pitch had been right, obviously. It was very hard to leave such a wonderful place once sex got started in it.

But they made it out, and Jack gleefully decorated Jamie’s room with bats and spiders and fake webbing all while the child slept. His pride and joy was a full body skeleton hung by fine string from Jamie’s bedroom ceiling, which he nearly dropped and ruined the whole surprise at least five times. It had one long, bony hand reaching down right into Jamie’s face, a positioning that took three tries to get right, but so worth it because it was creepy as  _ fuck.  _

He briefly wished he could stick around until morning to see Jamie’s reaction, but his own body was already thrumming with the desire to be back in Pitch’s bed, in Pitch’s arms, under Pitch’s sway, so he wished Jamie a quiet goodnight and pressed himself to the Nightmare King’s chest for quick passage home.


	5. At The Workshop Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack might have an age kink. And Pitch might have a foot fetish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE STILL ALIVE. Apologies for the lack of updates, we sort of got distracted with the future chapters of the roleplay. And the side stories. Please accept this installment of silly fluff and smut to make up for our absence. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always adored~~

“So I understand this is a little  _ young  _ for you,” Jack teased as he settled them in on the wide, flat roof of a large SUV where nobody was going to care that they were there. He’d brought along a blanket from the nest and a couple pillows just in case, but most important was the ridiculous amount of candy and the popcorn he’d nicked from the concession stand, “But I promise this’ll be worth it.”

Pitch rolled his eyes, already stealing some of the popcorn and making sure he was seated close enough to Jack that their legs were touching. This was definitely a new way to celebrate Christmas, and honestly a little impressive that they’d managed to find a  _ drive-in theatre out in the snow.  _ Pretty perfect arrangement for the frost spirit, and though it had been a decade since he went to the theatre, he enjoyed a good film here and there. 

….Or wait no. That was a lie. He’d absolutely snuck into the theatre when they’d re-released his favorite movie in 3-D. Whatever, the point was, it’d been a while. 

“ _ Young? _ ” Pitch questioned incredulously, “Jack, drive-ins were the trendy thing to do  _ sixty years ago. _ ” 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed with challenge in his tone. He snuggled closer to Pitch under the guise of nudging him in the side, “ _ among the young.”  _

Pitch welcomed the contact, but  _ childishly  _ flicked a piece of popcorn in that youthful face, “I can still dance with the best of them. Age means nothing.” 

Jack sputtered, but it turned into a laugh, “Well fine! If you’re gonna bring out the  _ heavy artillery.”  _

Pitch hid his grin when he leaned in for a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek, “I believe that’s an appropriate response if you’re going to take shots at my age, Jackie Boy.” 

“Better get used to it,” the Guardian replied, leaning his head on Pitch’s conveniently placed shoulder, “It’s gonna be a  _ long  _ while before a couple thousand years doesn’t seem like a big difference.”

Pitch also conveniently wrapped his arm around Jack’s opposite shoulder, just to keep him close, “Then you better get used to popcorn or other small projectiles in your face.” 

“If you aimed a little better, I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

The Boogeyman smirked and went for it, “You weren’t complaining about my aim last night…” 

Jack snorted and dissolved into a cackling laugh, “Oh my God, that’s so sophomoric! Are you sure I’m not the mature one, here?”

“I did tell you that age means nothing, Dear. Besides, would you think me very much  _ fun  _ if I was always the mature one?”

“Mm,” Jack hummed, propping his chin on Pitch’s shoulder to look at him instead of the screen. It was only showing previews, “I quite like you just as you are.”

Which meant Pitch’s attention was nowhere else but on his boyfriend. Those blue eyes so focused on  _ him  _ made his heart flutter, which was entirely cheesy, but undoubtedly true. Pitch’s smile was an honest one, even when he teased, “I  _ am  _ beginning to suspect you do have an inclination for older men…” 

Jack’s jaw dropped a little, “You  _ just  _ said I like you childish!”

Gods, teasing Jack really shouldn’t have been this entertaining. “Yes but  _ you  _ never fail to point out how old I am. Not to mention how much you call me your Sugar Daddy…” 

“You  _ are  _ my Sugar Daddy,” Jack defended, waving one arm out to gesture at the mounds of candy surrounding them. It wasn’t like Jack would have gathered all of this up just for  _ himself.  _ This only happened because of  _ Pitch,  _ “Look at all this  _ sugar!”  _

“But you brought it to  _ me  _ this time,” Pitch argued just to rile up the frost spirit even more, “And you better have remembered the Milk Duds.” 

“Do not insult me by implying I would ever  _ forget  _ them,” Jack demanded, grabbing the box and smacking Pitch in the arm with it, “You’re still the Sugar Daddy.”

Maybe he was, Pitch thought as his long fingers made easy work of the box. Even with an arm around Jack, he poured out and hoarded a small handful for himself before setting the box back down, “And I still think you have an age kink. Isn’t your movie starting, Darling?”

“See, and you call me shit like,  _ ‘Darling,’”  _ Jack muttered irritably, but there was no heat. He grabbed the box of Milk Duds, and the box of Sno-Caps just because, and settled back against Pitch for the opening credits.

Pitch chuckled and leaned over to whisper silkily into Jack’s ear, “And you  _ love  _ it,” before he settled in too, popping a candy in his mouth. 

The shiver that raced down Jack’s spine was completely unfair, but if Jack had to suffer unfair things in his life, he figured they might as well be things like that. The opening was not… as exciting as Jack figured the rest of the movie was guaranteed to be, given the director. But that was okay, because Jack’s focus was still on Pitch, no matter where his eyes were. “‘Course I do, Shadowman. But it still makes you sound a little bit  _ mature.”  _

Said Shadowman was delighted that Jack bothered with a comeback at all when he knew how pumped the forever teenager was over going to see a movie. He lightly ran his fingers through white hair and responded briefly, “I just love to keep you guessing, Jackie Boy.”

“I appreciate it,” the tone was wry, but the words were honest. Everything would be so  _ boring  _ if Jack could predict every little thing. Reliable schedules were for the  _ other  _ Guardians, not him.  _ He  _ was still an insolent teen. “Don’t stop petting. I like it.”

Pitch’s smirk said he  _ knew _ , but he didn’t say anything, merely kept those fingers running through Jack’s hair and along the back of his neck. They were there to watch a movie after all, and things were getting started, so for  _ Jack’s  _ sake he’d shut up. For now.

Jack had moved from the Sno-Caps to the Reese’s to the M&Ms to the Junior Mints and was just breaking into the Cookie Dough Bites when he declared, “I think I know who my favorite character is.”

Pitch scoffed, because it was only too obvious which one Jack was referring to, and he concluded gravely, "Mmhm. Definitely an age kink."

“It’s not my fault if all the awesome guys are old,” Jack defended himself without even looking away from the screen. He still managed perfect aim when shoving a mint between Pitch’s lips, “I’d still love you even if you were, you know, something a little younger than  _ ancient.”  _

Pitch nearly choked when more candy was shoved at him, but he recovered enough to suck on the tip of Jack’s finger suggestively before it was taken away from him. “But you have to admit, I look damn good for an ancient.” 

“You do,” the Guardian capitulated as if it were not even capitulation because honestly, admitting that your boyfriend was hot wasn’t exactly a dire thing, “You look downright  _ sexy.”  _ Although Jack was not actually looking at the time to properly know.

But Pitch noticed and it made him smirk, nosing over to Jack’s ear to murmur into it again, “You say that, but you’re looking at the gentleman on screen…” 

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes, a purely teenage instinct he could not resist, “As if I don’t already have you  _ memorized.”  _

“Well damn, that’s no good,” the shadowman muttered, pulling away and resuming his idle petting, “I’ll need to get a tattoo or piercing to spice things up now…” 

Jack snickered. He couldn’t help it. “You better  _ really  _ like it, because you will  _ actually  _ have it  _ forever.”  _

“Most piercings will heal, or so I’ve heard,” Pitch argued only for the sake of the joke, “But I think I’d rather just have you forever.”

“You’ve got me,” Jack assured, gently petting Pitch’s knee, “But please, don’t ever get my name tattooed on your ass. That’s not hot.”

Pitch muffled his inappropriately timed laughter into Jack’s hair, for once grateful that no one could see them, “Oh Jack, I would have to be drunk out of my  _ mind _ .”

“Which isn’t exactly impossible, Pumpkin,” Jack’s eyes finally left the screen to eye his boyfriend up and down sideways, before they went back, “So I’m telling you now, in the hopes that your drunk ass will remember, I  _ won’t  _ find that flattering. Hilarious, not sexy.”

It was rather difficult to pay attention to the story unfolding on screen while holding an amusing conversation with Jack. Pitch was obviously biased towards his rare companion and made up for their lack of eye contact with constant touching. His hand was now roaming the length of the frost spirit’s back, “I can’t imagine why I would ever allow myself to get that drunk, but duly noted.”

_ That  _ was a curious thought, and Jack didn’t see why he had to let it go, “Have you ever been that drunk before?”

“Have you noticed anyone’s name on my ass?” 

Jack dissolved into giggles, because seriously, the thought of Pitch having a name tattooed on his ass… He shook his head to clear it, “You know what I meant. There’s plenty of other stupid things you could have done.”

Pitch knew a little too well. ...Or, rather, parts were fuzzy, but the aftermath he remembered. “...Look, wine was plentiful when Seifer and I were still figuring things out, alright?”

The only thing that kept Jack from asking was how  _ jealous  _ he suddenly felt of Cupid. It made him think he didn’t want to know, and he wasn’t willing to risk it to find out if Pitch meant something entirely innocent or even platonic. Instead, he focused intently on the movie, but he didn’t  _ ignore  _ Pitch, “So you  _ have  _ been that drunk.”

It was subtle, remarkably so, but the Boogeyman could sniff out even the  _ tiniest  _ dash of fear. Being around for a millenia trained him well,  _ and  _ he was very focused on Jack. He was addicted to the boy’s fear even back when they first officially met, so if he was feeling something remotely negative and fearful, Pitch was aware. Did Jack not like the thought of him drunk and out of control? ...That was a reasonable fear, actually. “It’s been many centuries. I learned my lesson.”

Jack chuckled, a heavier sound of amusement than his light giggles had been, “Bad hangover?”

“To say the very least,” Pitch answered vaguely. Now wasn’t the time to recall any tales of when he was a younger, less wise spirit, “...although Seifer might remember more than I do.”

"So a  _ really _ bad hangover," Jack reiterated, though he didn't really want to be talking about it anymore. Silently, he snuggled into Pitch's shoulder and stuffed more mints in his mouth.

Pitch made a little hum of agreement and held Jack a little closer. Jack's fear wasn't as delicious to him anymore without the laugh following close behind. So he changed the subject after a kiss on the Guardian's head, "Don't hog all the mints."

Gracelessly, Jack shoved another one past Pitch's lips. 

“Mmph,” Pitch answered with just as much grace, “Trying to choke me with candy?”

"It  _ would _ be a pretty great way to go."

“Except I’ll never go.”

Jack took a solid minute to work through that one, distracted as he was by dialogue on screen, “Wait, do you mean  _ ever?”  _

“Well…” That was another complicated answer that didn’t really have a place in the middle of a movie, so Pitch simplified, “Choking me with mints will not ever get rid of me, no.”

...Jack was impressed with the  _ specificity  _ of that response, “If that wasn’t the most evasive answer I’ve ever heard.”

Pitch chuckled quietly and ran a finger down his frosty boyfriend’s cheek, “Shouldn’t your attention be on the enormous screen in front of you?”

“It is,” Jack defended, although his tone was nothing if not matter-of-fact. “I still find you awfully hard to ignore, though.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jack,” Pitch stated calmly, a wide grin on his lips from the way Jack never failed to make him feel loved, “Enjoy your movie and you can ask me anything you want afterwards.” 

“I’m gonna forget,” but he didn’t sound that concerned.

“You have me for eternity to remember.”

Jack shrugged, conceding, “It’ll probably come up again.”

Pitch sort of lost the boy after that. As the movie picked up in storyline and over the top action, their little comments went silent, although Pitch’s attention remained divided. How could he ignore the adorable way Jack was shoving more candy in his mouth while he stared at the screen like a mindless zombie? 

And then the Guardian went and crawled in his lap at some unexpected point, which the Boogeyman minded not at all. He wrapped his long arms around the smaller man’s middle and hooked his pointy chin over a narrow shoulder, making sure he could  _ feel  _ every part of Jack he was touching before he could surrender to the movie. 

But his fingers didn’t stop fiddling with the tie of Jack’s hoodie while he did so. “I never did understand the appeal of a gun…” 

“I get the appeal,” but then Jack had been born in the right generation for that, “All that power in the palm of your hands. Deadly and efficient and stunning.” He shrugged again, the barest lift of his shoulders under Pitch’s chin, “I’ve never really been into that, though. I was always a jester before I’d ever be a knight.”

“A gun isn’t a very noble weapon for a knight,” the Nightmare King argued lightly, “Although I’m not one to be considered an expert on knighthood either. I’ll always be the evil dragon.” 

Jack chuckled, reaching behind him to tug playfully at, then pet Pitch’s hair, “Easy there, Maleficent. Don’t be so dramatic. I just meant that a knight would understand the desire for strength and efficiency of battle. I just make jokes and get lucky a lot.”

Pitch soaked up that petting like the affection-deprived dragon he was, “And I’ll be over here breathing out shadows and growling at trespassers.”

The petting suddenly stopped, “...Oh my God, did you just call yourself a pet dog?”

Pitch’s face fell. “ _ Dragon.  _ Who said anything about dogs?”

“‘Growling at trespassers’?”

“I didn’t realize that was an exclusive right reserved for canines.”

“Either way you’re delegating yourself to the role of  _ pet.”  _

Pitch just rolled his eyes and thought that Jack might have been cuter when he was a movie zombie. “If that’s how you’d like to interpret it, I can’t stop you.” Because Jack was a damn  _ brat _ . 

“Do you also hoard gold and steal away princesses?”

“If I stick a tiara on your dainty head, I could honestly answer,  _ yes. _ ” 

Jack considered this, lost himself to the movie’s dialogue for a second, then nodded decisively, “Gimme a rim job and I’ll wear it a whole day. Deal?”

...Canine jokes aside, Pitch’s grin was appropriately  _ wolfish _ . Back to the ear he went with a smooth, “Oh Jack. I don’t need  _ any  _ sort of incentive to give you a rim job..” and another lick around the outer shell. 

The frost spirit shivered and leaned heavily into Pitch’s chest, “But  _ I  _ need incentive to wear a tiara, if I want to keep my dignity intact.”

Pitch strengthened his hold on the smaller man and continued to tease that delicate ear, scraping his teeth over the lobe, “The tiara was merely a joke, but if you want my tongue inside you, I’ll give it to you as much as you want.” 

Jack could feel himself blushing, even if the low lighting provided only by the screen meant no one could see it. Maybe Pitch still could, though. Darkness wasn’t the same for him.

He turned his head to meet the Shadowman’s eyes, because he wanted Pitch to know all of his attention was on him when he said, “What I really want inside me is your cock.”

… Well if  _ that  _ didn’t get his groin stirring. 

Pitch met those blue eyes but bit back the groan and for the moment the movie was completely forgotten. Stars, and Jack’s  _ ass  _ was literally snug up against his dick right now too. He would have loved to throw the Guardian down and rock the entire car with everything he wanted to do to him. Curse his unyielding self-restraint. “Soon, I promise,” he breathed in an intimate whisper, “You won’t remember your movie if I give it to you now…” 

Jack nodded. He hadn’t really meant  _ now,  _ anyway. He just wanted to make the point. This time, he snuggled up into Pitch’s neck and watched the movie at a bit of an angle. Worth it for the closeness. “I’ll hold you to that. You know I will.”

The extra closeness combined with the hints of arousal had Pitch shivering from the proximity. It was only fair to return the favor by picking up where he left off petting his boyfriend and feeling up the length of his spine. Of course now all he could think about was getting Jack out of his clothes and laid flat on a horizontal surface, and it was a bit of an odd juxtaposition with all the shooting and intense violence being played out in front of him. All the same, the younger boy  _ was _ here for the movie, so he accommodated for the angle by rotating their position a bit. “It isn’t as though I don’t  _ want  _ to, Jack. I think about it all the time.” 

Curled up in Pitch like this, angle corrected (and oh my God, how cute is Pitch for doing that?), everything was perfect. It made Jack uninterested in talking about what he didn’t have, and more than happy to bask in what he did. “You’re amazing…” And also, like,  _ everyone  _ was dying on screen right now. It was not the time for a deep, heartfelt discussion about dicks.

The sentiment made him chuckle. It was sweet of Jack to say, and he hoped those feeling didn’t change, but, “You’re distracted.” Pitch said it with nothing but fond amusement, toying with the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck. 

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, equally distracted. There was some pretty exciting shit happening in the movie, right now. Could he really be blamed?

“I bet I could get you to agree to anything right now,” the shade teased. 

“Maybe,” Jack conceded, reaching for another box of candy without moving his eyes from the screen, “You should try it.”

“I should,” Pitch agreed, smirking and more than likely losing the impact of the movie at this point with his focus on Jack, “In fact, I think you should give me the rest of the Cookie Dough bites.” 

Wordlessly, Jack handed them over and went for the rest of the Sno-Caps, himself.

Pitch took his bounty happily and tossed one in his mouth. He waited for a good minute or so before he pushed his luck further, “And I think we should snog when the movie’s over. You know, when this car starts moving.”

“ _ On  _ the moving car, or?...” Holy shit,  _ literally  _ everyone was dying. Or, well, maybe not  _ everyone,  _ but a good ninety-five percent of them. The injuries looked  _ so  _ realistic, too...

This was a fun game. “On it, of course. What fun would it be otherwise?” 

“We’ll get smacked in the face by _bug--_ WHAT THE FUCK!” Jack cut himself off to shriek, gesturing at the screen with the Sno-Caps box like Pitch might have missed an explosion of that size, _“Dynamite does not work that way!”_

Pitch just laughed at Jack’s over the top theatrics that matched the very over the top explosion, “It’s a movie, Darling, sure it does.” 

_ “Movies  _ work that way,” Jack emphasized clearly, swapping his Sno-Caps for the Milk Duds in his thrilled disbelief,  _ “Dynamite  _ does not. But fuck, it looked cool.”

“Which is the point, I’m sure.” And then Pitch paused to eye Jack curiously, “You speak as though you have some personal experience. Has the Frost Prince attempted to play with  _ fire  _ before?”

Jack gave the slowest, laziest shrug the world has ever seen, all the while pulling his lips into a carefree, even  _ smug  _ grin, “I may or may not have blown some shit up and it may or may not have been an accident.”

Pitch expected no less, and he rather liked that look on Jack’s face when it wasn’t coming at his own expense, “Independence Day must be a fun holiday for you too.”

“I am rather proud of America,” the frost spirit nodded emphatically, “That we celebrate our pride with controlled explosions is only a bonus. Have you ever seen fireworks from above?”

“I can’t say that I have. The shadows tend to keep me… subterranean.”

“I’ll show you,” Jack’s smile turned gentle, playful as he settled back down into Pitch’s arms. The explosion seemed to be the pinnacle of excitement, for now. “I’ll find a way.”

“I look forward to it,” Pitch murmured softly, heart skipping a beat in the wake of that earnest smile. Jack was so attractive and he still had no idea how he’d been lucky enough to wind up with the spirit in his arms. Easily he could have sat there and half-watched five more movies, though he sighed when he glanced over at the screen, “It does sadden me that the German gentleman is gone.” 

Immediately, Jack was pouting. “MVP of the movie,” he joined in the sigh, “Best character, hands down.”

“At least he was properly avenged.” 

“In the most  _ awesome  _ way.”

It was about that time that the credits began to roll, and the faint sound of clapping from a scattered audience could be heard while the ending song played. Pitch would have given the movie his much deserved applause but his arms were still full of Jack, and the shade had his priorities. “Are you satisfied with our movie date?”

“I am,” the Guardian laughed. He supposed dates could be rated and ranked as satisfied or dissatisfied, but he was pretty sure it was not  _ your date  _ who was supposed to ask. “Overall, it’s been a pretty great forty-eight hours. The movie was for me, so now it’s your turn. What would you like to do, next?”

Pitch’s smirk was naughty as he leaned in close, “Wouldn’t the customary thing be to head back to my place for dessert?” but then it was gone as if he was hit with a sudden realization and he was looking eagerly at Jack, “ _ Ooh.  _ Actually I want pumpkin pie. We should get some pumpkin pie.” 

The Guardian of Fun couldn’t hold back a delighted laugh, even as he gathered up their candy in the blanket he’d brought, “Can we get some ice cream with it? I could go for that.” 

Pitch assisted with the gathering process by collecting the pillows. It was the most he could do with Jack still in his lap. “Pumpkin ice cream?”

“You can get pumpkin,” Jack confirmed, bundling up the blanket and turning back to look at his boyfriend. He would enjoy this closeness for as long as it lasted before they had to move, “I wanna see if I can find a white chocolate peppermint kinda thing somewhere.”

Pitch leaned in to touch their foreheads together even when he teased, “That sounds entirely too Christmas-y.” 

That was okay, because Jack teased right back, “Apologies, Sugar Baby, but I actually  _ like  _ Christmas.”

The aptly titled Drama King sighed theatrically, “Overrated. Halloween is better.”

Jack groaned, burying his face in Pitch’s shoulder, “I hear enough Christmas vs. The World from Bunnymund. Christmas is Christmas, Easter is Easter, and  _ Halloween _ is  _ Halloween. _ There are things I  _ love  _ about Christmas, but I wouldn’t want a single one of them in Halloween, and I obviously love Halloween, but I don’t need skeletons at Christmas.” 

With sudden energy and a furrowed brow, Jack sat up to aggressively shove Pitch’s shoulder, “I want some fucking white chocolate peppermint right now, and if I want white chocolate peppermint in the middle of July, I’ll have it, Christmas or no Christmas. The same way I’ll still be singing  _ This is Halloween  _ in March. Get over it now, Pitch, or I’ll drive you crazy  _ fast.” _

The shade went with the flow of that shove, like he was  _ pretending  _ Jack had any physical strength at all, but he did not appreciate the thought of being likened to  _ Bunnymund  _ of all spirits. He was nothing like the closed-minded rabbit. “You already  _ do _ , Frost. And I will add that the skeletons this year were  _ your  _ idea.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, “Well obviously  _ Jamie  _ needed skeletons at Christmas. That’s a totally different thing.”

“Doesn’t sound like a different thing to me,” Pitch countered with a smirk. 

Jack waved him off, sliding out of Pitch’s arms and into the air, “We used Halloween to do it, but what we did to Jamie this morning was more about reminding him of  _ us.  _ You and I, we’ll never forget. We don’t need teeth to remind us of Tooth or hearts to remind us of Seifer, but Jamie… without  _ constant  _ reminders, kids just… forget us.”

“I know that lesson very well,” Pitch responded, sobered as he rose to his feet just as the car began to move. He held the pillows to his chest and stayed on long enough to fall back into the vehicle’s shadow, re-materializing on the snow before it drove off too far. “It’s hard to say what hurts more: being ignored or being forgotten.”

Okay, the topic was serious and everything, and Jack  _ really  _ meant all the things he said, and it  _ really was  _ important to him, but…

“Oh my fucking God, Pitch, that was cool. Was that even necessary? Or are you just showing off for me? With pillows?”

Were it possible, Pitch was sure the jumping from one extreme to the next with Jack would surely be the end of him. Or at the very least turn his hair gray. Fortunately, he had nothing to worry about besides keeping up with his young boyfriend and he was more than willing to take on the challenge. “No, it wasn’t  _ necessary  _ but the pillows are if we want them back in the nest,” his grin turned sly, which lost its effect when he was holding said pillows he was sure, but didn’t stop him, “I might not be able to fly, but I know how to travel in style.” 

Jack noticed. He couldn’t control his smile at how  _ adorable  _ Pitch looked like that. He couldn’t look more endearing if the pillows had been teddy bears. 

Maybe he should get Pitch a stuffed pony.

The nest could use a giant unicorn plush.

Maybe next Christmas, you know, for irony.

“Speaking of travel, how are we getting to the ice cream and pie? Shadows or walking?”

“What’s your preference, Snow Angel?”

“Shadows, probably,” Jack shrugged, floating back down to the snow, “I think my arms’ll get tired if I have to carry all this for too long.”

“We could drop everything off at the lair first, and then go for a long, moonlit walk,” Pitch suggested, “Or we can grab our dessert as quickly as possible and return home to enjoy it naked in bed.” 

“I vote for naked in bed,” Jack stated matter-of-factly, with a serious nod and solemn eyes, “I also vote for eating your ice cream off of me.”

….

Pitch was staring at Jack with the sort of wonder that even  _ North  _ might have been proud of. “Fuck, and it wouldn’t even  _ melt _ …” 

“Nope,” Jack affirmed with a smile, “I’m colder, so you’d have all the time in the world to lick the cream off at your leisure.”

“Well come on then,” Pitch held out his outstretched hand for his genius frostling, “Let’s go so I can paint you up and down with the sugar you love so much.” 

Jack all but  _ skipped _ into Pitch’s embrace, “Let’s.”

 

* * *

 

 

Halloween had been the best one ever, Thanksgiving… wasn’t so much. Christmas,  _ definitely,  _ and then it was New Year’s. Which was already ranking up there with Halloween and Christmas simply because Jack had one hundred percent stayed with Pitch. The Boogeyman had some reservations when Jack wanted to drag him out somewhere, much preferring the idea of an intimate evening alone, but never would Pitch deny Jack his fun. 

It was his first time at a Doomsday party. Pitch would never forget it. Specifically, he’d never forget the way Jack had pulled him onto the floor to dance, a sensual sway to his hips as they moved in scandalously close. He’d even entirely missed the way he’d been walked  _ through _ by several of the drunken partygoers, taken in by Jack’s seductive invitation to dance. 

And when had he ever said no to a dance?

Pitch was only a little indignant, but very smug, at Jack’s  _ surprise  _ he could do the club dancing thing as well as he could swing.

They lost track of time until they heard the official countdown start. Then Jack had thrown his arms around Pitch’s neck, locked tight and  _ ready _ , for the last seconds to tick away until midnight. 

He’d never forget that kiss either, long and sweet under the glittering fall of streamers and confetti. When Pitch took them home, what seemed like  _ weeks  _ later when they came up for air, they made an equally memorable night. 

Pitch was looking forward to a new complete year of enjoyable holidays. 

Days later found the pair of spirits in the lair of the Nightmare King. Now that Christmas and New Year’s were over, the lull of a long winter was there to take its place. But instead of being out and about crafting beautiful blizzards that could spread his infamous name, Jack Frost was having more fun staying home and playing with the spirit of darkness and fear. 

Who had a serious weakness that Jack  _ had  _ to exploit. 

Honestly, what was Pitch _supposed_ to do when he heard that first line sang oh so sweetly, echoing through the underground halls?

_ “Boys and girls of every age, wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”  _

It all sort of went downhill from there. Or uphill depending on your perspective. 

Back and forth they went with lyrics that hardly required any thought to recall, and Pitch was  _ sure  _ Jack could read just how much he was enjoying all their little pantomiming and play acting as they circled each other in the open space of his home. They didn’t even need music when they could hear it so clearly already in their minds. 

It was when the Shadowman had pulled Jack in close, spinning them around as they harmonized over their town of Halloween, that Pitch noticed the Nightmares gathering around the tunnel that served as the entry way, and the distinct outline of four figures. 

There was also a taint of fear that couldn’t be ignored. Pitch stopped,  _ smirked,  _ and merely… 

changed his tune, 

“ _ What’s this? What’s this? There’s tension in the air. What’s this? There’s intruders in my lair… _ ” 

The sudden change of song really threw Jack, and he stood staring at Pitch in confusion for a handful of seconds before he realized that wasn’t just a moment of brilliant improvisation and that Pitch was actually  _ looking  _ at something. So Jack followed his gaze and sure enough, there were the ‘intruders,’ standing in a line of stunned silence and staring back just as confused.

The Guardian of Fun burst into laughter, because Pitch  _ had  _ just had a moment of brilliant improvisation. So brilliant, in fact, that it deserved to be continued,

_ “What's this? I can't believe they’re here. I must be crazy. C’mon, Jack, this isn't fair. What's this?” _

...Oh this was happening. Pitch’s eyes flitted to Jack’s with such a combination of adoration and ‘I-swear-I’m-going-to-kiss-the-breath-out-of-you’ but returned to the Guardians refusing to let the moment die. He’d give his frostling all of his overwhelming affection later. 

_ “What’s this? What’s this? There’s something very wrong. What’s this? This is not where they belong. What’s this? The walls are lined with shadow creatures creeping, why on Earth would they be peeping? Am I possibly still sleeping? What is this? What’s this?”  _

Jack grinned, wondering how he had ever got so lucky as to find another spirit that was just as playful as he was. Making Pitch react like that was all the motivation Jack needed, but the way North’s eyes looked like they might fall out of his head any second certainly sweetened the deal.

_ “ _ _ There's Guardians in our dark halls, instead of in their beds. They're busy staring blankly and so far, frankly, no one's dead. There's frost on every pathway, oh, I can't believe my eyes. And in my--” _

But he never got to finish, because Bunny had, apparently, hit his breaking point.

“Crikey, enough with the broadway already,  _ we get it! _ ” The Guardian of Hope angrily stomped forward, boomerangs out with so many Nightmares lingering around. 

North was right behind him, looking at Jack worriedly because he wasn’t sure which was corrupting the young man more, the Boogeyman or that cursed  _ movie _ …

“Jack. We must talk.” 

“Oh, but we were having much more fun  _ singing _ ,” Pitch faux-complained, holding Jack for a few more seconds before he let his arms drop. He knew where this was ultimately going to go, but he hoped that  _ maybe  _ the idiots would see that he was not keeping Jack here against his will. 

“About that,” Toothiana began hesitantly, as if she needed a segue to say whatever she was going to say, “Jack, what’s going on here?”

“Just hangin’ out with Pitch,” Jack answered plainly. It was the truth and he had nothing to hide, so… “Why, did something happen?”

Sandy crossed his arms and gave Jack a look that he chose to interpret as, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ as opposed to something slightly more offensive like, ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Jack, you  _ almost ruined Christmas! _ ” North cried, obviously not over it yet, “This is big deal. Please come with us for talk.” 

“Geez mate, you aren’t even out there making a riot with that staff of yours. Something’s wrong. We’re gonna help you fix it,” the Easter Bunny added.

“Wow,” Jack expressed his wonder with wide eyes and a stunned look, “I never thought I’d ever hear  _ Bunny  _ advocating for random blizzards.”

“It’s not the blizzards, Jack, it’s all of it,” Toothiana gently corrected, flitting a few feet forward and holding her folded hands anxiously out in front of her.

“Winter’s fine, guys,” Jack tried to placate, shrugging and waving one hand dismissively, “It’s only been, like… a week since I was last out. And January’s allowed to be a little mild. The kids aren’t even in school, yet. What good are snow days without school to call off?”

“Do you even care about being a Guardian anymore?” Bunny suddenly accused, fed up with the way the frost spirit wasn’t taking  _ any  _ of them seriously, “Or are you too busy shacking up with that monster to remember why anyone else’s holiday might be important?”

Jack was offended on Pitch's behalf for the monster thing, although he wondered if it would be a compliment to the Boogeyman in any other context. That was only secondary to the offense he felt for himself, though. "Of course I care. I'm the only one who actually interacts with the children anymore, remember? Jesus, Bunny, make up your mind. Am I a colleague or the dirt under your shoe?"

"We don't doubt that you care about the children, Jack," Toothiana interrupted. Bunny had a tendency to do more harm than good when it came to delicate situations involving feelings. "We just want to know why you thought ruining Christmas wouldn't hurt them." That was the most nonoffensive way to put that.

The Guardian of Fun shook his head and raised both hands in an innocuous gesture, "Christmas was never in danger. We always planned to let North go with plenty of time to deliver his gifts. And I'd been upping the production all week before to make sure he had enough toys for everyone. I made sure nothing would be different for the kids. The only people bothered were those at the North Pole."

“For the love of--” Bunny threw his arms up and took a few anxious steps closer to their lost friend, “You’re working with  _ Pitch Black,  _ mate! He tried to kill  _ all of us  _ and you brought him into North’s home!” 

“We think you are spending too much time with him. Can’t be good for you. Come with us and get some sun, and we can figure out situation,” North offered, extending his arm out. 

Pitch wasn’t sure he was relieved or insulted the Guardians were more or less ignoring that he was  _ right there _ , idly stroking the mane of one of the Nightmares _.  _ What a bunch of fools. He was confident that Jack wouldn’t leave him permanently, but he might go with them for a talk, and maybe it was necessary. 

That didn’t make the surge of possessiveness he was feeling go away though. 

There was no reason why Jack should have been so offended by the line about the sun. And yet he was. Jack was  _ doing his job.  _ That involved  _ seeing the sun.  _ It wasn’t like Jack was spending every night with Pitch and then sleeping straight through the day. They were hitting it pretty even, actually. A good balance between their natures and maybe  _ that  _ was why Jack was so offended. Because they were assuming he was just bowing to Pitch’s nature instead of meeting him halfway and Jack wondered how they could think that when it was  _ Jack’s  _ drive and determination that won against Pitch so many months ago.

But the  _ reasonable  _ argument was, “How would you know what’s good for me? You hardly give me the time of day. Only when it’s convenient for  _ you.  _ Which, you know, I get it. You’re busy. I don’t begrudge you that. But I won’t tolerate being patronized when you  _ do not  _ actually know what’s best. I’m fine here. Better than I’ve ever been. I’m doing my job and seeing the kids and I’m  _ happy,  _ so if you’re here to try and change it, you can leave now.”

“Jack,” the tooth fairy pleaded, “we’re just  _ worried  _ about you.”

“Maybe we haven’t gotten to know you that well, but we know  _ Pitch _ , mate, and he isn’t good for  _ anyone _ .” 

“My, how  _ cold _ ,” Pitch cut in dryly with a roll of his eyes. 

“Don’t you have a bloody  _ bed  _ you need to haunt?” the Easter Bunny turned his threatening stance on the dark man petting his horses. 

“This is  _ my home _ , you overgrown kangaroo.” 

“You don’t scare me you sorry shadow rat!” 

“Bunny, be calm,” North placed a hand on Bunny’s shoulder before an actual fight broke out, and somehow he didn’t think Jack would be on their side this time, “Jack, maybe you come talk to us so we can understand.” 

“Why do I have to  _ go  _ somewhere to talk to you? This is my home, too. You can talk to me here.” And then he turned his gaze on Bunny because, seriously,  _ “Shadow rat?  _ From the giant lagomorpha?  _ Really?”  _

“He’s got you on a bleedin’  _ leash  _ now?!” Nevermind Bunny and Jack used to trade insults all the time  _ before  _ Pitch came into the picture. 

That wasn’t what North was struck wide-eyed for. “ _ Home?  _ This is home?...” 

“Where else?” Jack asked quietly. There wasn’t anything in that question he could be upset about. It wasn’t unexpected that they might think he would continue to be completely nomadic like Sandy, sleeping between blizzards in whatever snow he found himself at the time.

But, “This is Burgess,” and even three hundred years in, that was still home, “and it’s not like I can live with Jamie. Pitch’s bed definitely beats out the lake I died in. I like it here. It’s  _ home.” _

“ _ Pitch’s bed?!”  _ The surprises just kept on coming. 

But Bunny couldn’t get over that one, “You sleazy mongrel, I will rip you to pieces!” and immediately went charging towards the Nightmare King boomerangs blazing. 

The Boogeyman laughed and simply melted into the nearest shadow. 

Which was so fucking Pitch that Jack just rolled his eyes and left the Guardian of Hope to chase shadows, lifting his staff from where it hung on the globe and hopping the distance between him and the other three. 

Toothiana immediately grabbed him into a hug and even Sandy gripped his arm in wordless, worried support. They had always been the more touch-happy of the group, hadn’t they? 

“Is it true, Jack?” the Guardian of Memories inquired softly, hands on either side of Jack’s face, “Are you sleeping with him?”

“I sleep here every night,” the frost spirit answered literally and deflected to another topic of interest. That was the fastest and easiest explanation, given the way Pitch had but hadn’t fucked him and the last thing Jack wanted to do was provide Toothiana a checklist. “Look, North,” he began instead, “This Christmas was just your Blizzard of ‘68. You guys  _ know  _ I’m a prankster. It was your mistake if you thought Guardianship would change me.”

“Is more than that, Jack,” North was half distracted by the Easter Bunny hopping from place to place as if he could sniff out Pitch’s shadow. The Nightmares looked like they were getting in his way just to  _ toy  _ with him, “Prank is fine. I enjoy good prank. Prank is not problem. Boogeyman  _ is. _ ” 

Sandy was tugging on Jack’s arm again, a vast array of sand shapes taking form over his head to remind Jack of just how many ‘pranks’ Pitch had pulled that were not pranks at all. 

An effort that was largely fruitless since Jack hadn’t been around for a lot of them.

The Guardian of Fun shook his head and looked back up into North’s eyes, “Did he, or did he not, let you go when I gave the countdown?”

Such a direct, uncompromising question left very little room for interpretation and Toothiana wrung her hands with fidgety anxiety over where this was going.

North, however, just looked sad, a similar expression to the one he’d worn on Christmas Eve when he felt like he was losing Jack forever, “I know not what games he plays. Pitch is, always was, manipulator. Pranks may be harmless now, but it will get worse in the future. We’re worried for you.” 

That was also pretty straight forward and Toothiana found her eyes flitting back and forth between Jack and North waiting for his answer.

“Pitch wasn’t lying when he said it was my idea, North,” Jack reminded the Guardian of Wonder with little room for doubt in his voice. Fuck, this was just like that initial offer to be a Guardian all over again. North thinking everything was sparkles and Jack putting his foot down. When were they going to figure out that his sense of self was  _ stronger  _ than that? 

That was the first abstract answer in a while and Toothiana needed an explanation, “But why would you think that was a good idea, Jack?”

A wordless sound of frustration left the frostling before he could think to temper it and was followed with an irritated, “Because!” Okay, but he knew that was a shit answer too, so he tried again, “Because of balance. Because he was lonely and I knew how that felt and Kamui came to help him and I knew that if  _ I  _ didn’t do something, Pitch was just going to try to kill you all  _ again.  _ This is better. We’re not alone and we’re not unhappy and we don’t have to cross any lines to be who we are and that’s  _ better.”  _

A contemplative silence trailed Jack’s words. Or, at least, Jack hoped it was contemplative and not something stupid like  _ stunned.  _ There was no reason for them to be  _ stunned  _ by any of that.

The next time Sandy reached up to tug on Jack’s arm, when the Guardian of Dreams realized nobody else knew the best thing to do in this situation, it was to offer Jack a small, but bright smile.

...It was official. Sandy was Jack’s favorite.

North clearly didn’t  _ like  _ that this was how things were turning out to be, but Jack’s explanation didn’t sound ... _ irrational _ . He had one more loose end to tie up before he could leave in peace, though. “Is not… You are not thinking doing this, you protect us, yes?”

Jack was quick to shake his head. He could see how North came to that conclusion, but no. “If you’re asking whether this is some torturous, self-sacrificial, offering-the-virgin-to-the-dragon situation, not at all.” Without an ounce of hesitation, Jack held his hand out to the near wall where a deep line of shadow fell in the dim light of the cavern. Even if he couldn’t sense the waxing and waning of Pitch’s fun, (Teasing Bunny, listening to North, listening to  _ Jack…)  _ the winter spirit knew his boyfriend would never leave him on his own in a situation like this, unless Jack asked. Pitch was just too good at sneaking around like that.

“Knowing I should do something and not wanting to do it might be mutually inclusive, but the dice doesn’t  _ always  _ roll that way. I wanted to talk to Pitch. And now I want to be with him. And I want to keep him on good terms with the world because I  _ don’t  _ want him to be beaten up and thrown back down here all alone and lonely. And he knows, don’t you Pitch, that if he tries to take over the world again,  _ I’ll  _ stop him.”

Without missing a beat, Jack’s attention turned to the shadow, “‘Cause I care about you, Pumpkin, but the kids are important to me, and you  _ can  _ be a dick sometimes.”

Pitch emerged from that shadow looking like he’d been standing there part of the conversation  _ the whole time.  _ Bunnymund was literally shadow boxing right now. As much as he felt the compulsion to pull the frost spirit into his arms and cuddle him obnoxiously in front of his friends, he settled for a more refined and elegant reaching for Jack’s hand, letting their fingers easily slide and lock together. 

His snarky comeback was  _ less  _ than refined. “Last I checked, you  _ liked  _ it.” 

The Guardian of Wonder looked unsettled at having Pitch so close, and now  _ holding hands with Jack _ , but… if everything his fellow Guardian was saying was true… “You promise you will come to us for help if you need it.” As if the declaration needed it, Sandy quickly nodded his added support.

But Jack was smirking at Pitch’s general assholery in amusement and tugged the Nightmare King closer by their linked fingers. “If I need it, but seriously, guys… He won’t hurt me.”

Toothiana was  _ inclined  _ to believe him, it was just… their long history made that very difficult, and she would hate to find out it was her own negligence that got Jack hurt again. “I just wish I could understand how you  _ know  _ that.”

“I’ve  _ always  _ wanted an accomplice,” Pitch answered cryptically, not helping his case in the least with the way he was smirking,  _ leering  _ at Jack, “What reason would I have to hurt my beautiful partner in crime?” 

“Now wait just one damn minute!” Bunnymund had officially caught on to the futility of his chase, and was hopping back over to the group of Guardians and their enemy outraged. How could any of this be acceptable?! “Jack are you really letting him use you? Like  _ that?! _ ” 

“Fuck, I  _ wish,”  _ Jack moaned before he could think better of it. Fuck it all, though, honestly. It was a private matter, sure, but being all smoke and mirrors about it wouldn’t reassure anybody and it wasn’t like Jack was  _ ashamed.  _ “But  _ no,  _ he’s all, ‘We should wait, Jack,’ and, ‘Let’s go slow, Jack.’ I’m dying, here. I’m slowly dying from unresolved sexual tension and he has  _ no mercy.”  _

Amidst all the shocked stares, Sandy nodded like he totally understood.

...That was more information than Bunny could handle; he’d nearly  _ dropped  _ his boomerang. 

And North was looking a little flushed from embarrassment. That was a  _ lot more  _ than he expected going on between Pitch and Jack, and no, he didn’t approve, but that wasn’t his place, and Jack made it clear he wasn’t unhappy… Just. 

….Was Pitch really being all  _ noble  _ about it?... “Aha… That’s, well…” The Cossack coughed nervously, “....we should be going. Come on, Bunny.” He was reaching for a snow globe and the Hope Guardian before another violent outburst could spawn. 

Sandy winked and gave a thumbs up before he took Bunny’s other arm and shuffled him toward the portal. 

Toothiana wrung her hands briefly before darting forward to check Jack’s teeth really quick. And then she hugged him. And then she hugged him again before slowly flying backwards toward the rest of the Guardians,  _ “Please  _ take care of yourself, Jack. And don’t forget to floss!”

And then it was quiet. Even the  _ Nightmares  _ were quiet as they receded back into the shadows, lying in wait for the night. 

Pitch only eyed the place that four Guardians had been standing a second longer before he turned an  _ extremely  _ intrigued look on Jack. Which he got closer to by using their joined hands to twirl the frost spirit right up into his chest, “Dying, hm?” 

Jack  _ could  _ have been embarrassed, but that was pointless. Pitch  _ ought  _ to know how badly he wanted it, or Jack would never  _ get  _ it. He leaned up on his toes, letting his staff fall to rest against that shadowed wall while he focused on brushing his nose softly against Pitch’s, murmuring inches from his lips, “Bit by bit every night you don’t fuck me.”

Jack was playing him and Pitch was totally falling for it but he didn’t  _ care.  _ He loved sensual little moments like these, the way his boyfriend was so intently focused on him but carefully holding back. 

It also  _ really  _ made him question why he was waiting. Heavens above, Jack looked downright fuckable right now,  _ all the time,  _ and Pitch could barely keep his hands off of him as it was. “I really am a monster, aren’t I?” he murmured back, cupping the side of Jack’s lovely face with his free hand, “I’m sorry your nights have been  _ so  _ unsatisfying…” 

Jack groaned, instantly remembering exactly how  _ unsatisfying  _ those nights have been. His body felt so good all the time now, with Pitch’s hands all over him any time they were alone for too long. He was spoiled. Terribly spoiled. And he just wanted  _ more.  _

“I want your cock. I want it like  _ nothing else.  _ Whenever you're ready, Pitch, I’m ready. I’m  _ so ready…”  _

Pitch’s response was an answering groan that he chased into Jack’s mouth, greeting that filthy tongue with his own for a quick and dirty kiss. Who in their sane mind said no to that?  _ Who?  _

Though, the Boogeyman wasn’t saying  _ no,  _ just  _ wait,  _ and he had no idea where this well of patience was coming from, but when he looked at Jack… He was reminded of how precious this was, and how special it needed to be. They would have plenty of time to get all hot and quick and rough in their infinite years together down the road. 

“I want to give it to you, Jack, I  _ do.  _ You’re going to feel so amazing clenched around me, taking me all in…” Pitch trailed off, pausing for another kiss like he couldn’t bear waiting another second away from those lips, “We’ll get there. Let’s see how you handle three fingers tonight.” 

Jack moaned and let go of his hand to tangle his fingers in Pitch’s hair. 

It seemed awfully perverse that the Guardians had inadvertently caused exactly the sort of thing they had been horrified to know was happening. But, well, here it was.

The thought made Jack smile. 

“Your tongue, too?” Because if they were bartering, Jack didn’t see how it could hurt to make demands, “And you have to be naked the whole time.”

Pitch grinned at his advantageous angel, wrapping his arms around his middle and making sure his hands slipped beneath the hem of Jack’s hoodie when he pulled their bodies even closer, where Jack could  _ feel  _ the heat that was starting to pool between his legs. “Oh Jack. I’d get naked for you  _ right now _ , if you asked. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

That was a great offer, and Jack was nearly sold. One little thing held him back, and that was their unfinished dance from before all of this. Sex was amazing, yes, but Jack had wanted to dance for just as long and Pitch was in the mood. He could persuade Pitch to suck him off anytime, but the electroswing was a little more rare.

"I want you to lead me in a dance," the frostling admitted as he stepped back into the proper position and fixed his hands and posture, "Just you and me, uninterrupted this time."

It said a lot, being the  _ teenager _ Jack was, that he would opt for a dance opposed to tripping over themselves trying to get into bed. Even  _ Pitch  _ was half expecting to be straddling the frostling in his globe right now, but Jack wanted to swing and it made him feel so strangely proud that he’d introduced the boy to something he enjoyed just as much as sex. 

And he  _ knew  _ Jack was loving the sex despite his dick not being fully involved yet. 

The Boogeyman snapped his long fingers to get the music started, which attracted some of the Nightmares back, but Jack wanted this to be just  _ them  _ and it made his heart ache pleasantly so he paid them no mind. “Anything for my Snow Angel,” Pitch agreed with a smile, assuming his position with a hand on Jack’s back, feet moving on autopilot as soon as he heard the first couple piano notes.

And then the lyrics started, begging to be sung along- 

_ “Walk into the club like ‘What up’ I’m such a big shot...’  _

Jack laughed, holding tight to Pitch as he sang the words to possibly  _ the most  _ catchy electroswing tune he had ever heard. The song was so energetic and upbeat that Jack was immediately caught in its sway, and the way Pitch swung him along was mesmerizing in its rhythmic simplicity. Jack didn’t need instruction, he just needed Pitch’s hands on his body, Pitch’s voice in his ear, and Pitch’s smile lighting his way. 

Jack eventually sang along, too. He couldn’t help it. The song was  _ that  _ catchy. And as soon as the Guardian of Fun could justify it, he was jumping up into his boyfriend’s arms, swinging between his legs, wrapping himself around Pitch’s long frame to the beat of the song just because he  _ could.  _

And he dearly loved  _ every second.  _

A feeling that did not fade as they made their way to bed and danced there to a different kind of tune. It was beautiful and wonderful and Jack felt amazing…

Even if Pitch still refused to give him some dick.

And  _ that  _ was a feeling that persisted through the whole week and into the one after that. 

It didn’t even occur to the frost spirit that he might have been a little too involved in thinking so much about how badly he wanted it and why Pitch wouldn’t just give in already until he was happily icing up some pavement in a southern city in the state of Georgia. He couldn’t usually make it this far south most of the year, and right now he was challenging himself with the delicate line between naturally occurring ice and his own, unnaturally cold and resilient ice. He wanted to cover the whole damn city in it, but he couldn’t let it seem anything but winter to the people living in it. 

And then the Blue Fairy found him.

Which instantly made Jack wonder what it was he might have been wanting badly enough for Lulu to show up.

And promptly blushed like a school girl.

Lelouch was obviously caught between extremes of amusement and exasperation, raising a fine eyebrow at the  _ interesting  _ expression on Jack’s face. From what he’d seen of the other spirit, he didn’t embarrass easily, as he was usually the one to cause it for others.

But it was  _ more  _ than warranted in this case. “Yeah it  _ is  _ that bad. My word, Jack, if Suzaku knew how much I’ve been forced to think of the Nightmare King’s dick, I’d be sleeping on the couch for  _ months _ .” 

There was only one reasonable answer Jack had for a statement like that.

“Suzaku doesn’t have a couch.”

“Exactly. I’d have to find one  _ who knows  _ where and a Blue Fairy that does not feel well rested does not grant wishes.” 

Jack shrugged, unease slowly ebbing as their conversation commenced as normal, for the two of them. “So are you really here to grant a wish for me, or did you just happen to be in the neighborhood?”

“Oh Jack,” Lelouch sighed dramatically, placing a hand on the frost spirit’s shoulder like he was trying to console him, “The best I could do right here and now is give you the thickest dildo I can think of and paint it gray.” 

...Jack wanted to laugh, except that he found himself honestly considering the idea instead. Fuck, he wanted it  _ that bad,  _ did he? It didn’t take long for Jack to come to the conclusion that a fake one wouldn’t be as good and he’d ultimately feel like shit for letting the first dick up his ass be made of rubber when he really just wanted Pitch and Pitch wanted him back, but  _ fuuuck.  _

Pitch wasn’t  _ giving it to him.  _

“God, Lelouch,” the Guardian begged, “what can I  _ do?”  _

...Maybe this was more serious than the wish granter realized, if Jack had  _ really  _ taken a moment to ponder the dildo. Lelouch found a nice car parked on the side of the freshly frozen road and hopped on the hood to make himself comfortable for a story. “Well, what’s the problem? I thought for sure as soon as you two started kissing, he would have banged you six-hundred and sixty-six ways to next Halloween.”

“I don’t think there  _ is  _ a problem,” Jack muttered, balancing his staff between two of the cars and perching on the wood to face his friend. At least, if there was a problem, Jack had no idea what it was. Pitch  _ did  _ want him. Jack didn’t think there was any reason to doubt that. “He’s just… taking it  _ really  _ slow.”

“To what end? Is he planning something elaborate? Waiting for a special date?” Lelouch tilted his head contemplatively, “Or…. can he not get it up? He is far older than you…” 

_ That  _ made Jack laugh, even as he shook his head. “He can get it up fine, just… I don’t know. I don’t  _ think  _ he’s waiting for a special date. He hasn’t said he is. He only ever says that he wants me to be ready. I don’t think I can  _ get  _ more ready.”

“Oh you’re ready alright,” Lelouch huffed with a shake of his head, “You couldn’t be more ready if you were handcuffed spread eagle to his bed. Is he just teasing you?” 

“I don’t  _ know,”  _ Jack whined pathetically, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his head on them, too.

...And briefly wondering what it would be like to be handcuffed spread eagle at Pitch’s mercy. Probably amazing. And  _ still  _ frustrating because he doubted even that would get Pitch to fuck him.

“Hmm…” Lelouch laid back against the windshield, one hand behind his head and the other casually over his stomach as he pondered the scenario with what information he knew about Pitch Black, “...He’s a bit of a romantic, right? Or dramatic at the very least. Perhaps he wants to save it for marriage?...” 

“I would marry him to get some cock at this point,” Jack deadpanned.

Lelouch laughed at the idea, finding it as funny as he did sad. While he’d experienced  _ some  _ of that same frustration with Suzaku, it hadn’t lasted long. Never to the point Jack was at. Lelouch was too good with his words for that to happen. “This is really more Seifer’s area of expertise, you know. Maybe you just need to seduce the pants right off of him.” 

Jack sighed, “Getting his pants off is no longer part of the problem. It was for a while. I consider this progress,” and then he groaned, “So this isn’t normal for an immortal spirit? Pitch really is just taking fucking forever to lay me? God,  _ why?”  _

“Well… compared say, to a  _ satyr,  _ yes he is taking fucking forever. Although…” Lelouch eyed the Guardian of Fun like he needed to re-assess his conclusion, “Yeah, no. We’ve discussed this. Everyone thinks you’re cute. Attractive. I can’t say if Pitch should be congratulated for his unwavering resolve or if he’s just crazy, but anyone else would have fucked you by now.” 

“Pitch is a bit crazy,” Jack allowed with a tilt of his head. World domination level crazy. And Jack was in love with him. The only reasonable conclusion was that Jack was even crazier. “I respect it, kind of. I mean, there’s no way I can question that he cares for me, at this point. He’s just taking it too far, and I don’t know how to tell him that.”

“The same way you just told me?” Lelouch supplied with a gesture of his hand, “Isn’t it your nature to be blunt? I think Pitch can handle it.” 

Jack gave Lelouch a confused look, mildly exasperated, “Do you think I have not begged him to fuck me?”

Which just made Lelouch confused, because if even straightforward begging hadn’t worked… 

Maybe the Nightmare King was just broken after so many years of being alone. “...This is really something better discussed with Seifer. I can speculate from now until summer with all the possible scenarios leading to your current predicament, but Seifer knows matters of the heart, and he’s known Pitch far longer than I have. I can help you look for him if you like.” 

“Sure,” Jack had nothing better to do today. He could ice Georgia up tomorrow. Sliding down from his perch, Jack twirled his staff back into his hands, “Where shall we start?”

Lelouch got up from the car, hovering just above it with his wings buzzing at either side of him, “Hawaii, of course. Is that going to be too warm for you?” 

“Winter’s the time to do it,” Jack shook his head, hopping up into the wind to match the fairy, “and there’s mountains where I can rest if it gets to be too much. But I think I’ll be okay.”

“I have a feeling we’ll be out on the water anyway,” Lelouch offered mysteriously before they were off toward the ocean. The Blue Fairy had a pretty set destination in mind. 

A few hours later, they were rounding in on a remote island, not terribly far from one of the main ones. There was a dock and a modest cabin where one person clearly lived, but no where near civilization. Even now the cabin wasn’t occupied. 

But there were two figures a couple miles away on the beach. One was their favorite topless, fluffy winged cupid. The other… 

Squall’s transformation kept continuing to progress. He was also topless, small patches of blue-green scales subtly blended into his pale skin tone along his arms. Still wearing those belted leather pants and still  _ not  _ wearing Seifer’s pendant sadly. Lelouch caught a glimpse of one of those long, pointed fin-like ears poking out from a mop of dark, messy hair when Squall looked away from something Seifer said. 

And of course, there was a shark fin circling just out by the deeper water. 

Lelouch came in for a landing without hesitation, but kept a respectful distance. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.” 

Jack had never seen Squall before. Somehow, this is not what he expected, which made Jack wonder what  _ was.  _ Not that it mattered or anything, but it gave him something less awkward to think about than whether it would be appropriate to offer his hand for a shake or… Or what, Jack didn’t know.

Timidly he added, “We can come back later, if it is. I’m just having, you know, Jack Frost problems again.”

Seifer audibly sighed, a resettling of his emotions and purging of his frustration, before he smiled at his friends and shrugged, “No worries, you could’ve picked a worse time. So what’s up? Jack Frost problems are unfortunately vast and terribly unspecific.”

Jack went for it. There was no point stalling. “I can’t get Pitch to fuck me.”

“Wow, that got specific fast.”

Specific enough to even have Squall’s head turning, but there was nothing readable in his expression. 

Lelouch felt it was safe to begin approaching Seifer to a less awkward distance for having a serious talk, “Apparently it’s been weeks. Months?” The fairy looked to Jack for confirmation.

Jack groaned. “Okay, so I don’t know how long we’ve been talking about it, but we’ve been together for months and I’ve been  _ begging  _ him to fuck me, that should be enough, right?”

Seifer wasn’t sure where to begin, but introductions seemed like a good place to start. Especially if they were going to be talking about Jack taking it up the ass. Squall should  _ at least  _ be formally introduced to the person whose ass he was being asked to consider.

“Squall, this is a friend of mine, Jack Frost. You wouldn’t see him much around here, but he does a lot of work around New England and through Europe. Jack,” Seifer met the frost spirit’s eyes and couldn’t keep the excited, maybe a little bit proud smile from his face, “This is Squall. My future husband, if I have it my way.”

Seifer was being outright  _ adorable  _ and Jack felt now was an appropriate time to hold out his hand to shake, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“...” Appropriate maybe. If circumstances were normal. Squall’s stormy eyes flitted to that hand for only a second, but he didn’t reciprocate. Didn’t say a word. This wasn’t his business and he was already scrounging for  _ something  _ left in him to possibly care for Seifer. Getting one of his friends laid wasn’t even on the radar. 

All the undine managed was a small nod to indicate he recognized Jack was standing there at all. But there was tiny flicker of anger when he turned a mild glare on Seifer afterwards, “I haven’t said yes.” 

Jack, in all his determined glory, wormed his fingers just under Squall's, gripped them a bit, shook them a little, then let go and politely retreated. 

"There was an if in there," Seifer shrugged, watching Jack with amusement. He was going to get bitten like that. He was curious to see Squall's reaction to Jack's temperature, too.

It was probably  _ because  _ Jack felt so cold that Squall  _ hadn’t  _ lashed out at him, biting or otherwise. Despite where he lived, Squall liked the cold. There was something about it that calmed him, so it was almost comical the way his eyes widened and his hand was yanked back like he was going to need it to deck this forward stranger, that he paused suddenly and went back to neutral as he studied the little bits of ice that had formed on his wet fingers just from an unwanted handshake. 

He didn’t appreciate the touching, but he could accept the cold. 

...When Squall realized just about everyone’s eyes were on him, he rolled his own and defaulted to a nice, curt, “Whatever.” 

Lelouch had a loose fist curled over his lips to hide his chuckle. His friends were so entertaining. 

“So,” Seifer deflected back to the intended topic at hand, “when you say he won’t fuck you, what do you mean?”

Jack had maybe a second of hesitation where he considered whether Pitch would appreciate him airing their dirty laundry for everyone to gossip about, but then, this was Cupid, and Cupid’s future husband, and a wish granter. He was in some pretty great company for being totally frank about his problems.

“I mean he’s practically had his whole hand up my ass, but refuses to use his dick.”

“....Well he certainly didn’t give me  _ those _ details,” Lelouch dropped his hand to mutter. Not that he was  _ asking  _ for those details, and Squall didn’t look like he wanted to hear them either. 

All the same, “Are you sure you don’t just want the gray dildo?” 

Jack groaned, “I want my  _ boyfriend.  _ And my boyfriend wants  _ me  _ but he’s determined to take four months to land his God damn plane and I’m about ready to crash the motherfucker, so here I am, for Cupid’s advice.”

“And you’ve tried telling him this?” Seifer felt it was cautious to ask.

“Begged him for it, yeah.”

Seifer wished he had Jack’s problems. Sex sooner rather than later would have been a wonderful problem next to Squall’s imminent mortality and general lack of soul. That didn’t mean Jack did not have a problem, and Cupid would do his best.

“Alright,” the blond sighed, “Start from the beginning.”

And Jack did, giving Lelouch the chance to hear the whole tale a second time just in case there were any  _ other  _ details he missed. Honestly though, this was  _ way too much time  _ spent thinking about another man’s dick. Jack needed to get laid if only to let the Blue Fairy have peace of mind and let him think about  _ Suzaku’s  _ dick. He almost felt  _ dirty _ , and he was probably going to have a hard time looking Pitch in the eye for a while. 

Squall at some point had wandered off during the story, just to the shoreline to let the waves crash over his feet. He had his own memories of that frustration, wanting Seifer to just  _ kiss  _ him, hold him… And instead Seifer had left him. Good thing he’d left that pesky soul behind or he might have been troubled to feel bitter. 

When Jack’s story brought them back to the present, Lelouch was as impatient for an answer as the Guardian was. He hated knowing there was a problem he  _ couldn’t  _ solve, whether a wish was required or not. Or dicks. “So, given your relationship with the Boogeyman and being the God of Love and all that, what the Hell is his problem?”

“I think he’s waiting for something,” Seifer mused, rubbing the back of his neck and trying not to talk faster than his mind could keep up, “I can’t say what it’ll be, but knowing Pitch and his flair for the dramatic and his truly  _ epic  _ patience, I think he’s waiting for a sign that says Jack’s desire for his dick has tipped from a  _ want  _ to a  _ need.”  _

“That tells me nothing,” Jack hurried to complain. It was information, sure, but Seifer had outright said he didn’t know what it would be. How was Jack supposed to fix things when  _ they didn’t know what the solution was?  _

“If it helps, I think it’ll happen soon. I mean, you seem to need it pretty bad to me, anyway,” Cupid offered placatingly.

“I thought it would happen soon a  _ week ago,”  _ the frost spirit whined.

“He definitely needs it if he’s wishing for it so bad he’s pulling  _ me  _ halfway across the country,” Lelouch agreed, folding his arms over his chest, “ _ Have  _ you attempted to seduce him?” 

“Seduce him how?” Jack asked with an adorably curious blink, “We get each other hot and bothered all the time.”

“But he’s the one in charge, right?” Lelouch didn’t need an answer to that, “Seduce him to the point where the only thinking he can possibly do is with his cock. A man can only be patient for so long.” 

A snort revealed Seifer’s thoughts on that, “Time is relative; it moves differently for immortals. Pitch is older than either of you; his patience is  _ epic  _ because it doesn’t actually  _ feel  _ like that long for him. Jack’s dying after a week, to Pitch it probably only feels like waiting a few hours. Jack can’t crack his patience. That’s one’s a losing battle.”

All Squall could think was that it must have been nice to think of time as a luxury, a  _ toy _ . Who cared about such a thing as wasted time when there was an infinite well to grab from? Nothing like it was with  _ humans.  _ It’d taken a month for him to realize his father wouldn’t be coming back home, a matter of minutes and his mother had been taken from him, he remembered the hours it took for his sister to pack up and move away… 

He’d never forget the crawl of those three days it took him to accept that Seifer had abandoned him too. 

What kind of idiot was he, falling so  _ quickly  _ for a timeless immortal like that? 

The ocean waves seemed to get rougher, choppier, small white caps forming before the inevitable crash as if it was somehow able to channel what the undine was unable to feel himself. Squall suddenly didn’t want to be on the beach anymore. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to stay a little longer. 

Lelouch on the other hand just frowned. It wasn’t often he was called out because of his  _ age  _ but Seifer did make a very good point. “Then he needs to crack him some other way.” 

“His heart, obviously,” Seifer shrugged.

Jack just groaned again, “But  _ how?”  _

It was actually  _ really fun  _ to watch the Guardian wail in frustration like that. Seifer couldn’t help but grin at him. “You can either overwhelm him with your need, the way Lelouch recommends and, incidentally, the way you’ve been doing  _ to Lelouch,  _ or you can show him that you’re not happy as things are, now. That man would do anything for you, Jack. He’s not holding back to hurt you, that we all know.”

Ugh. No one should have to be subjected to a mental barrage of unsolicited dick, much less  _ their own dick.  _ Like Pitch’s ego needed to be any bigger… Luckily, that was only the Blue Fairy’s version of this particular ‘burden’ to bear. “I would be careful with that second option, is all. If you tell him you’re unhappy, that may make it sound like he’s done something wrong and you’ll attach an array of negative emotions to the whole thing.” 

“And I’m saying it’s a matter of priorities,” Seifer slid back in, “No relationship is completely without negative emotions. Right now, you’re frustrated, maybe a little angry, probably disappointed, and perhaps even sad. Is that better or worse than Pitch feeling uncertain, self-conscious, doubtful, and anxious? The sooner you get some dick, the better for both of you. So use your discretion and pick the faster option.”

Logic dictated that Jack ought to listen to the God of Love on matters of love, but Lelouch raised a good enough point that Jack wasn’t so sure. Fuck. “This conversation was supposed to give me answers, not a really fucking hard question.”

Seifer was unapologetic, “That’s love, Snowflake.”

“If you want to make it even more complicated, consider that these are only our opinions. You know Pitch better than either of us at this point, Jack,” Lelouch pointed out with a smile, “There could very well be another option that only you would think of to charm the Nightmare King.” 

“I came to you because my approach wasn’t working,” Jack deadpanned. He really didn’t need this to be any more complicated. But then, maybe the problem was that it  _ was  _ complicated, and Jack was determined to treat it like it could be simple. Ugh. Jack didn’t want his relationship to be  _ hard.  _ He wasn’t about hard work and deadlines, never had been. But considering the new angles could only help.

There was still one opinion yet to be voiced, and maybe  _ that’s  _ why Squall had opted to stick around. Who could say, really? His opinion couldn’t matter that much. It was his first time meeting this other spirit, but frankly he’d heard enough bullshit. 

The undine gave an exasperated sigh and turned to look at the three males still spinning their wheels over the situation. “This is the most selfish and pointless ‘problem’ I’ve ever heard.”

Jack’s ears practically perked at the sound of the new voice, and honestly, it was a pretty smooth, pleasant voice. He could see why Seifer would like it. Now, the  _ words  _ it was saying…

The Guardian turned to face him and shrugged, speaking with all the bluntness he began this conversation with, “Well, duh. That’s  _ why  _ it’s a problem.”

“You don’t know the meaning of the word,” Squall countered back evenly, “You want to fuck up your functioning relationship because you want something more for yourself, so you come here to try and figure out how to manipulate your way into getting it.” 

Jack smiled, because it was funny, telling a three hundred year old isolated zombie that he doesn’t know what problems are. It occurred to Jack that this indulgent feeling was probably the way most of the spirits viewed  _ him.  _ New kid on the block and all that jazz. The difference was, Jack was looking to the older spirits for guidance and Squall was… being a brat.

He turned to Seifer and patted him on the shoulder twice, “Got your work cut out for you.”

But then he turned and let the wind carry him, hopping the short distance between the sand and the surf, landing atop a wave that froze solid as soon as his toes touched down on it. And then he perched there, “Lelouch’s method is manipulative, sure, but Seifer’s method was honesty. And neither method is going to fuck up what I have with Pitch. We both want it. He’s just got two thousand years and twenty years on me and apparently that makes  _ me  _ the impatient asshole between us. He doesn’t hold it against me.” And here’s where he does Seifer a subtle favor. “Anyone who really cares won’t.”

Except it didn’t, because Squall had an accusatory reply already on the tip of his tongue, “Good. He won’t leave you abandoned because you’re not playing by  _ his _ rules,” You know, rules like  _ must be an immortal for consideration _ , since he’d done fucked  _ that  _ one up, “You’ll get what you want whether you do something or nothing. You  _ don’t  _ have a problem.” 

Lelouch admired Jack’s bravery, he did, but he was questioning how  _ safe  _ it was to be arguing with an unstable undine with a jilted heart. The water looked like it was getting even rougher still, like it was  _ purposely  _ slamming into the wave Jack had frozen. 

“Anything that makes a person unhappy is a problem,” Jack reasoned evenly, and as the Guardian of Fun, it was, in specific,  _ his  _ problem. 

Which made it really fucking weird to be standing in front of a person without a soul. He could tell that Squall  _ did  _ enjoy things, but it was all muffled, all dim, fuzzy on the horizon. There was probably no way for him to figure Squall out getting signals like this, but it didn’t make him want to stop trying. His determination to use fun to fix the world was  _ why  _ he was a Guardian, after all.

And he could tell Seifer was hurting, a few yards away.

He wanted  _ so bad  _ to fix that.

But he hadn’t been kidding about Seifer’s work being cut out for him. Squall’s words were entirely self-absorbed. It was like he hadn’t even  _ considered  _ that the people around him could have suffered more than he had. “Do you know what you sound like, talking like you’re the only one who knows what problems are?” A child. Squall sounded like a child. And, incidentally, Jack was charged with protecting those. “You got really upset about the idea of manipulation, and you’re really upset at Seifer, but Seifer’s recommendation was  _ honesty.  _ So here’s my real question. Did you try that? Did you try telling him what you wanted? That you loved him? That it would break you if he left?”

“Jack,” the God of Love interrupted, stepping forward as if he could shield Squall from the power of those words, “It’s not his fault. Don’t make it sound like it is.”

“But how is it  _ your  _ fault, either?” the frost spirit demanded, sliding down from his wave to stand on the frozen sand, “I saw you, Seifer. You had  _ no idea.”  _

“I  _ should have  _ known. You weren’t there, Jack. It would be like ignoring you and being blissfully stupid of how that would hurt you.”

“Hindsight is twenty/twenty, Matchstick,” Jack reminded, easily side-stepping his own issues. It wasn’t like  _ everybody ever  _ hadn’t done exactly that over the years. Everyone had ignored Jack at some time or another. “You know that’s not how it works.”

“Enough,” the undine announced, stepping further out onto the water.  _ On  _ it, and not in it, obviously headed to that gray fin waiting for him. He’d already hit his bullshit quota moments ago. This was too over the top. For  _ nothing.  _ For not sympathizing with a stranger that he wasn’t getting laid. 

And of course it was Seifer that was the angel and Squall the monster, the fool, the pathetic  _ mortal,  _ from whatever side of the story Jack had heard. Immortals could be such an elitist group of snobs… 

“It’s none of your business. And your ‘problem’ is none of mine.” There was nothing left to say as far as he was concerned and Squall was relieved that he was so numb to words that may have had the ability to cut him months ago. Maybe he should have felt something that Seifer was defending him and showing remorse, but… 

There were scales on his skin for a reason. 

Jack rolled his eyes. That sounded like a concession, to him. After all, Squall was the one to jump in first. Backing off because Jack made good points was, again, childish. But he wouldn’t be a dick about it, because Seifer loved this guy, and Jack cared about getting along with Seifer’s future husband. 

All the same. “It’s my business because Seifer isn’t having any fun,” Which was literally true, “and  _ you’re  _ why not. I guess it makes sense that you don’t care about that as much as I do, but don’t blame me for doing my job, k?”

…..

Seifer wasn’t having any fun because of him. 

_ Seifer wasn’t having any fun because of him _ ? And he was supposed to  _ care?  _

Jack wasn’t getting any sex and Seifer wasn’t having any fun. Was everything that simple for immortals? It didn’t matter how many humans were left to rot by the wayside because of their flippant actions, as long as their base needs were covered. It was… utterly maddening, or it would have been if he could  _ feel  _ it. There was a heat in his chest, his heart was pumping and his fists were shaking but it felt completely disconnected from his mind. 

So did the humongous tidal wave he lashed out with to crash on the shore and thoroughly douse all three of them. Fucking immortals. By then he was far enough out to reach Shiva, and the large tiger shark was waiting, though still swimming, as he climbed on her back and began to sink with her in the murky depths. His reply was nice and flippant, just to reciprocate the treatment, “Good luck getting yourself fucked,” and then the sea witch disappeared in his element. 

Lelouch was less than thrilled at his new soggy state, his beaded headband half covering his face and all of his usual ruffles looking sad and flat, “Oh God  _ damnit  _ he is lucky I can’t take away his power!” 

Jack had tumbled with the water, no weight to him that could have resisted the momentum of the tide. And  _ that  _ hadn’t been any fun, reminding him sharply what drowning felt like, but by the time the water had receded, everything left on Jack had frozen and all he had to do was ruffle his hair and shake his hoodie to break the crystals and make them fall away. “I definitely think we should all take a moment to remind Lelouch that this is his fault.”

Seifer, meanwhile,  _ was  _ strong enough to resist rolling with the wave, but was still left dripping and shivering in the wind. Also, his pants were more or less sheer and that helped nothing. “There’s no point. Merryweather was just doing his job. But maybe  _ you  _ could try not pissing off my reluctant fiance in the future?”

The Guardian of Fun did consider that, for a second or so, then shrugged, “I’m not really good at that. You’ve seen my track record.”

Which made Seifer sigh even as he wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders. It was true. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful. It’s just… a delicate situation, and being defensive on my behalf isn’t going to endear me to him, so…”

As much as he was thinking it, Jack didn’t want to say that he didn’t think much  _ could.  _ He wasn’t sure Squall had the  _ ability  _ to be endeared. But Seifer probably already knew that.

Lelouch fixed himself enough that he wasn’t half blinded by his own accessories, then heaved a sigh himself. Fuck, and he had  _ winter  _ to return to before nightfall, but that wasn’t the biggest issue here. He looked on at his two friends recovering from the wrath of the beast he’d helped create. “Well I feel terrible now. It was also my idea to seek you out, Seifer.  _ Usually  _ my ideas are renowned for being  _ brilliant _ …” 

Jack reached out to loop an arm around Lelouch’s waist and pull him in. No matter whose fault all of this was, he didn’t want Lulu feeling terrible, either. 

“It’s really not your fault, Merryweather,” Seifer insisted, wistfully eyeing the waves as if he thought Squall might come back. He didn’t. “Don’t worry so much. It’ll either work itself out or it won’t.”

Jack’s hold made the fairy shiver, but he didn’t move away, and even completed their little circle with a hand on Seifer’s shoulder, “It  _ will  _ work out, even if it takes all of my power to grant your wish for it.”

Startled, Seifer turned his gaze on Lelouch and blinked, “How? I mean, thank you, but also,  _ how?”  _

The Blue Fairy tried not to look too terribly sheepish, “...Let me get back to you on that when I’m not having an off day.”

That made both of the men in front of him laugh. But then Jack nudged him playfully and leaned his head on Lulu’s shoulder, “You’re not having  _ too  _ off of a day. I feel helped, even if we couldn’t turn around and help Seifer, too.”

“God, you’re  _ freezing _ ,” Lelouch muttered as he actively rested his head on top of Jack’s and huddled closer like it would make him warmer, “So you know what you’re going to do about your Shadowman?” 

Jack would have shrugged if it wouldn’t have dislodged Lelouch from him, “There’s no point in me making plans. I don’t follow through on plans very well. I’m just going to keep your advice in mind and when the times comes, do what feels right.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Lelouch nodded against Jack’s melting hair, “I’ll just get you the dildo for Christmas.” 

“I’m sure Pitch’ll find a use for it,  _ if  _ we’re fucking by then,” Jack chuckled.

“If you’re not, then  _ you’ll  _ find a use for it now won’t you,” Lelouch winked.

“I told you,” Jack whined pitifully, “I don’t want a fake dick to be my first dick. That would be  _ so  _ anti-climactic after all of my hard dick worshipping work.”

The wish granter laughed despite Jack’s issue being very real. It wasn’t his fault it was as troubling as it was amusing, “So use it on  _ him.  _ Maybe you need to show him exactly what you want for it to sink in.” 

The Guardian of Fun offered a conspiratorial wink, “I was planning on using my  _ own  _ dick for that.”

Which only made Lelouch laugh a little harder and nudge the frost spirit playfully, “Touche. Don’t listen to me, I’m full of bad ideas today. You’re definitely on the right track.” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” Seifer said from his other side, tone much more sober than either of theirs, but still with a smile on his face, “Like I said before, just be honest about what you want, and Thriller will hand it over. Follow your heart; it hasn’t led you wrong, yet.”

“Thanks, guys,” Jack smiled in turn, thankful for the handful of friends he had picked up since awakening from death three hundred years ago, “Gonna do my best.”   
  


* * *

 

So far Jack’s best had yielded nothing more than the status quo. 

He’d been given his pep talk three days ago, but still no cock had come his way. ...Well, in the way he ultimately wanted, that is. But a lack of cock didn’t mean a lack of fun, and neither of them, even amidst the budding of their relationship, forgot the declaration of their prank war. 

Pitch just happened to get Jack  _ good  _ today. Which led to a very heated snowball fight that lasted for hours and that in itself was impressive considering the Nightmare King’s track record wielding snow. He put up a good effort that left him cold and wet and his hair needed some major re-spiking, but he accepted his defeat with open arms and laughter, returning his equally drenched frostling back to their shared home. 

They didn’t land in the bed, but a few feet away from it. There was no reason to make their sheets cold and wet too. 

“Don’t even pretend that was a fair fight. I  _ saw  _ you using your staff,” Pitch accused while he affectionately brushed away some of the wet tufts of hair stuck to Jack’s face.

Tufts that were trying to freeze on him, so Jack appreciated that they wouldn’t be freezing to his face. “We never declared any formal rules, Shadowman. All’s fair in love and war,” he reminded with a smile, just before pulling his hoodie off over his head. It would never dry on him, just freeze.

Pitch forwent any undressing of his own until he knew Jack would be comfortable, so his fingers were already working on his belt. And staring at that white skin with an artistic scattering of bites and love marks that just made Jack all the more attractive to him, “I suppose you’ve got me there. For the last half hour, my snowballs were more sand than snow anyway…” 

“I noticed,” Jack eyed him with a playful glare. That sand wasn’t any fun to get hit with and Jack had gotten hit  _ plenty  _ of times. Without having to try all that hard, Jack reached over to hook his staff on part of Alaska where it hung neatly, and used his newly empty hands to dive under Pitch’s robe.

Pitch’s skin was damp enough that Jack’s touch instantly created frost, but he only loved the ache. He let his robe drop and fade away for his boyfriend’s convenience while he tossed the belt aside and started tugging Jack’s pants down. “So what does that make our score now?” he asked idly, after a kiss to the Guardian’s cheek, “31-30?”

“All that matters,” Jack said solemnly as he moved his hands up to thread his fingers through the Nightmare King’s hair, “is that I’m going to get you back for this.”

“ _ Ooh _ ,” the Boogeyman purred, head listing down to feel more of Jack’s fingers, “Such big talk from little Jack Frost…” But he was honestly looking forward to the counterattack, just to see how creative the boy would get. He was such a work of art… A feeling that was only enhanced when his hands traversed up and down Jack’s now bare backside. 

Which started Jack feeling the stirrings that only ever led to one thing. He kicked his pants off his feet and dropped his own hands to Pitch’s pants, unfastening them even as he joked with a mock pout, “Don’t be mean about my dick, Pumpkin. I can’t help that I’m shorter than you.”

Pitch chuckled against Jack’s skin, tempted to wrap a hand around and  _ properly  _ greet Little Jack Frost, but he resisted for the moment. They would have all night for that and the only rush he felt was to get his own pants off. “I would  _ never _ . Little Jack Frost is absolutely delicious as is…”

A burst of breathless laughter was his reward. It was several seconds before Jack caught his breath and tugged those pants open, “Oh my God, did you just give my dick a nickname?”

Pitch didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing that laugh. He grinned and gave a little nip to the tip of his boyfriend’s ear, “I fully accept any horrible nickname you want to give mine.” 

“I feel no strong urge to name your cock,” Jack giggled helplessly, “But now horrible cock names sounds like a challenge, so I’m gonna give it a couple goes.” The frost spirit took a deep breath, swallowed, then stared meaningfully at Pitch’s proud member. “Black Beauty. No, wait!” The straight face was cracking even as Jack struggled to keep his lips in a stern line, “ _ The Dark Butterknife.”  _ And then it was gone and Jack made a high-pitched keening noise before he was giggling all over again. He was dying. Killing himself with laughter. There was no hope left for him.

“Oh Gods…” Pitch’s mind could hardly handle that one, and it definitely derailed any sort of mood they were building, but Jack was still laughing,  _ a lot,  _  and that was music to his ears, right? ….Right? “Done. We’re done here. You win. We can go home,” he announced, defeated yet again and smiling before he could stop himself, “Just remember, it’s  _ you  _ who’s going to live with the fact that you were thoroughly  _ spread  _ by the Dark Butterknife…” 

_ “Auugh,”  _ Jack groaned, nearly crying as he dropped his forehead against Pitch’s chest, “You  _ had  _ to make it worse, didn’t you? God damn it, Pitch…”

Pitch was practically beaming for the beacon of  _ darkness  _ that he was and happily looped his arm around Jack’s middle, his free hand coming up to pet his boyfriend’s head consolingly, “It’s what I do best and you know you love it.” 

Jack shook his head, even as he laughed and yanked on his boyfriend’s pants, “Why are you still wearing these?”

“Because you were distracted giving my cock possibly  _ the  _ worst nickname in all existence,” the shade surmised before helping to step out of the pants and kick them aside. When they were both fully exposed and pressed up against each other like they enjoyed doing so much, Pitch subtly changed the position of his arms so that he could  _ not  _ so subtly lift Jack into them, carrying him in true bridal style toward the globe.

Jack made one little sound of surprise before settling and getting comfortable in Pitch’s arms, to the point of crossing one leg over the other and leaning into Pitch’s chest like he might on a throne. He waited to be laid down properly before rolling over and pulling his lover down on top of him, “Does that mean it would be unsexy to say something about covering me with your jelly?”

Pitch let himself be pulled in, dropping his bodyweight onto Jack, pelvis to pelvis, chuckling next to the Guardian’s ear. It was really an awful name and yet he  _ knew _ that they would end up using it, damn it all, “That depends. Does the idea of me covering you with my jelly turn you on?” An innocent question that was followed up with a far  _ less  _ innocent murmur, “Because I will make you absolutely  _ filthy _ if you want it, Jack Frost.” 

With a little gasp and a gentle arching of his back, Jack quietly admitted, “Okay,  _ that  _ turned me on.” But honestly, who could resist such a deep, smooth…  _ accented  _ voice whispering like that in their ear? It made Jack shiver and clutch his boyfriend closer, and he couldn’t find it anywhere in him to be ashamed of it. Pitch was fucking  _ hot.  _

It turned Pitch on to feel  _ Jack  _ so turned on, and he arched all the same but downwards, pressing their bodies impossibly tight together. Fuck, it amazed him how perfectly they  _ fit  _ each other in spite of how different they were. Cold and dark… he’d never get over such an exquisite combination. He moaned quietly and began a soft trail of kisses down from Jack’s ear to his shoulder, “I could come  _ all over you _ just having you here writhing underneath me like that. You’d wear it so  _ well, _ Jack. You’re so damn gorgeous…” 

Just to tease Pitch, Jack did some more writhing. He liked to keep moving and if Pitch liked to feel him doing it, all the better for both of them. “I’d much rather have you come  _ in  _ me, you know…” the Guardian confessed quietly into his boyfriend’s ear. Honesty had been Cupid’s recommendation, after all.

Oh, Pitch knew and he knew  _ well.  _ His dick was  _ longing  _ for it, although it was pretty happy right now as he picked up a counter to Jack’s rhythm, rubbing against cool, soft skin while it came to life. “I want to. Fuck, I  _ want  _ to. I’d fill you up so deep and make a mess of you all the same.” 

“I want to feel it,” Jack gasped again, one leg curling over Pitch’s hip and arms latched around his shoulders to help lift him off the bedding, “I want to be a  _ mess…”  _

Pitch groaned and bit down into that pale neck he was buried in. Jack’s eagerness made him  _ dizzy  _ with lust and his hands were immediately on the move to grab his boyfriend’s ass to help hold him up, the other feeling its way down Jack’s front to palm over his cock, “Just wait till I’m done with you, Jack, you’ll be in  _ shambles _ … But I want you to get hard for me first.” 

“Working on it, I promise,” the Guardian said in a rush, breathing uneven and eyes closed so he could  _ focus  _ on the wonderful feeling of Pitch’s lukewarm skin sliding against his own. He was never going to grow tired of it, Jack was sure. Nothing else in the world felt like skin on skin and it was so fucking  _ intimate…  _

Just like the feel of Pitch’s hands in  _ private  _ places. It was a turn on, even if he  _ weren’t  _ rubbing directly on Jack’s dick. Everything felt tingly and amazing and when Pitch squeezed his ass  _ just  _ right, Jack couldn’t keep the sounds to himself. He would be hard in no time.

Gods, it never ceased to get his blood going knowing Jack  _ loved  _ his ass being played with. And Pitch  _ loved  _ to smother it with attention. The shade’s head was down already, lathering up a nipple with his tongue while he massaged those cheeks and forced a finger between them to rub up against his entrance. He’d be getting inside that tight, wonderful channel just as  _ soon  _ as the Guardian was rock hard. He wanted to explore some more, he wanted to see if he could find Jack’s spot on the first go, and he wanted to feel this beautiful body tremble… 

It was while he was squeezing the head of Jack’s pulsing prick that he finally had his shadows retrieve the lube for him. The Nightmare King sat back on his heels to work with the bottle, a momentary ceasing of all touches, and he poured a little into both of his hands so that Jack was met with a slick grip when he returned to stroking him. The other hand… Pitch hesitated for a second, just staring at that pale flesh waiting for him. And then he was down again, making his way between Jack’s legs.

He wasn’t going to push his fingers inside just yet until his tongue had the opportunity to do so first. 

"Fuck, Pitch!" Jack cried, fingers convulsively clutching at the sheets before he gave up on that and let go. He kicked his legs up instead, rolling his back until his ass was up off the sheets, presented to Pitch like a fucking award, knees bent and spread with zero shame for  _ excellent  _ access. The frost spirit’s hands only spent a token amount of time in Pitch’s hair before they moved away to more important things, like pushing the Boogeyman’s hand off his cock,  _ “Damn it, Pitch, I wanna last…” _ and looping beneath Jack’s knees to pull them even higher. He didn’t want to be distracted from feeling  _ this.  _

Well  _ fuck _ , Pitch was going to have a hard time lasting himself just having the visual of Jack holding himself  _ wide open  _ for him. He groaned helplessly from where he was working and obediently moved his hand away from his boyfriend’s dick. Instead both hands were put to better use sliding under Jack, helping to hold his body aloft at the base of his spine while he plundered that tight little hole. It was probably  _ the  _ fastest way to get the frostling hard enough to be leaking anyway. 

Jack was so  _ eager  _ for it. He never got tired of it, no matter how many times Pitch dove between his legs and licked him to orgasm. That wouldn’t happen tonight, not when Jack wanted to be  _ filled  _ so fucking badly, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel  _ amazing.  _ And he  _ wanted  _ it to last, so he wasn’t going to do something as monumentally stupid as telling Pitch to  _ hurry up.  _ Instead, he tilted his head back with a smile, moaned indulgently, and let his toes flex and curl as his boyfriend drove his arousal higher,  _ “Pitch…”  _

Pitch honestly didn’t  _ need  _ Jack to vocalize his urgency, because the shadowman was feeling it all on his own. He knew he could get rougher, could make Jack come this way, but he wanted  _ more _ , and the tongue fucking was only meant to be a preparation tactic. No matter  _ how much  _ that sultry tone of voice was acting as a siren song to keep going, keep tasting the most intimate parts of his angel. 

The Boogeyman came up for air he didn’t need some drawn out minutes later, licking his lips lecherously, and started rearranging limbs so that Jack’s legs could rest comfortably over his shoulders. Which only added more visual fuel to the fire. Who ever thought he’d be  _ wearing  _ Jack Frost quite like this? 

An adoring kiss was placed on the inside of the younger spirits thigh while he was fumbling with the lube again, “There, I think you’re plenty hard now…” 

Jack thought so too, but he wasn’t staring at himself. No, his eyes were glued to his lover’s crotch, instead. With his hands no longer busy holding his hips aloft, they fell over his head, lightly hugging the pillow he was resting against while he basked in the lingering feel of a thoroughly wet and tongue-fucked ass. But Jack was never one for staying still and despite the posture of rested relaxation he adopted above the waist, below he continued to squirm and adjust and  _ wander.  _ While one foot laid flat along Pitch’s shoulder blade and his toes tapped rhythmically, the other moved lightly over his boyfriend’s skin, heel dragging across Pitch’s back in half-formed shapes and toes tickling aimless designs over his shoulder and arm. He couldn’t help it. Fidgeting was just a thing he did. 

_ “God,  _ Pitch...” his gaze was steady, though. He had no desire to look away from that cock, “I want it.”

“I know, darling,” he cooed with another consoling kiss, smearing the oily substance on his fingers over Jack’s very wet hole. It amazed Pitch how Jack was just as dextrous with his feet as he was his hands, and he adored the feel of  _ both  _ roaming over his skin. But he couldn’t close his eyes and savor it because he couldn’t take them off the transfixed expression on Jack’s face. He was  _ almost  _ jealous except his dick was actively attached to  _ him _ , and quite enjoying the attention. It seemed to swell up even harder,  _ bigger, _ like it wanted to show off for its adoring fan. “It wants you too…” 

Pitch decided to dive right in with two fingers, curling them  _ just  _ so and dragging them over those soft inner walls, testing everything he’d learned about his beautiful frost spirit so far. 

The initial thrust had been  _ great.  _ It wasn’t enough, no, but Pitch’s fingers were longer and thicker than his tongue and that, in and of itself, made Jack happy. 

And then Pitch made Jack scream. 

Which wasn’t  _ rare,  _ or anything. Jack was loud. And Pitch was  _ good.  _ So Jack was loud  _ a lot.  _ But it was at least noteworthy that Jack was screaming this early, shocked by the suddenness of Pitch’s good aim into being disproportionately pleased by the sensations crawling up his spine. Zero to fucking sixty. He was  _ allowed  _ to scream over that. 

It dissolved into obscenities fairly quickly. 

“Fuck, shit,  _ Pitch,  _ shit…” the Frost spirit squirmed, pressed down on those fingers, squirmed again, got hit just right and cried out once more. “Iwasn’tready,” he claimed, as if anyone cared about his excuses, then cursed some more while arching his back and clinging to the pillow under his head.

Sometimes Jack was just too adorable for Pitch to handle. Sometimes Jack was just too  _ sexy  _ for Pitch to handle. It was a miracle he stayed  _ sane  _ when the two combined. 

But those curses might as well have been a song, and the Nightmare King felt like he was being serenaded like he did to Jack so often. He was so charmed, so turned on, so ... _ into  _ the Guardian he couldn’t possibly put it into words and he refused to stop what he was doing, rubbing over that little hot spot of nerves, pulling his hand back, and thrusting back inside again, just as sudden. “Do you want me to stop, Jack? We can always wait until you  _ are  _ ready…” 

Jack’s feet were both planted flat against Pitch’s shoulders now, pressing down to lift his hips so that he could rock into those fingers nonstop. He was panting, toes curling, fighting to keep his eyes open so he could glare irritably at his boyfriend, “Fuck you; give me another finger."

Sexy was quickly edging out over adorable. Pitch grinned in the presence of that glare, so badly wanting to lean over and kiss all the sass right off of that face. But no, he gave in, pulled his hand back, and rammed another finger into Jack’s ass. He pressed in tight to that abused bundle and walked all three spidery digits over it in a steady procession, one after the other after the other, “That what you want?” 

Jack made a keening noise and bucked hard, but there was no escaping those fingers, and honestly, he didn’t want to.  _ God,  _ Pitch could play him like a fucking flute. It wasn’t what he wanted, though. Not yet. But  _ soon,  _ if he had his way. “Fuck me, damn it!”

Pitch hummed a little noise meant to be appreciative but came out  _ hungry.  _ He was torturing himself just sitting there, Jack’s legs around him like a mantle, watching him try and fuck himself on his fingers. He was almost shaking in his want to get out of his kneeling position and  _ pounce,  _ and yet he could have watched his fingers sliding in and out of Jack for  _ hours _ . “Fuck, you’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” he teased in a breathy murmur, voice seemingly calm even as his fingers roughly drove inside that passage. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Jack managed, hands clutched in a death grip on his pillow. At this width, this rough, there  _ was  _ still a little bit of burn, but Jack was used to it, could handle it, was ready for something bigger,  _ deeper.  _ The hardest part of this, right now, was trying not to come before he got a chance to beg,  _ again,  _ for what he really wanted. Pitch was way too good with his hands.

“I do love it,” the Boogeyman confessed, leaning over just to be a little closer to Jack, but careful not to bend him in half too far while he was handling three fingers. He loved  _ everything  _ about this right now and he was sure the Guardian knew. That didn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth, or the way his hand started moving faster, “You’re absolutely breathtaking right now, swallowing my fingers so eagerly. My dick is fucking  _ aching  _ for you…”    


Jack gave a sharp cry and bowed drastically as that quick rhythm urged him relentlessly closer to orgasm. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was going to come like this if he didn’t… 

And those _words._ Pitch knew just how to arouse him and, okay, so Jack was pretty good at doing that one right back at him, but it wasn’t helping _right now._ Especially since Pitch seemed to be treating his honest begging as just one more super hot thing to get him going, unlike Jack, who was planning to take Pitch’s words very seriously. 

_ Very  _ seriously. 

Right now.

…

Jack made one more high-pitched sound before he reaffirmed his resolve. It was this understandably reluctant last minute hesitation that had been fucking him up all week.  _ Right now.  _

Slipping one foot down from Pitch’s shoulder, he hooked it solidly into the Nightmare King’s elbow and  _ pushed,  _ forcing the arm back and those devilishly clever fingers out of him and  _ oh God  _ it almost physically hurt to lose the source of that incredible pleasure, but he had a  _ goal  _ here. And he was  _ going to fucking get it.  _

“Then  _ give it to me,  _ Pitch!” Jack gasped,  _ demanded, _ with all the determination he had, “I  _ want  _ it! I  _ want  _ your cock!  _ Fuck me!”  _

….

Pitch truly did not understand how he could be so confused and so turned on at the same time. Yes, Jack told him all the time how much he wanted his cock and it was so fucking delicious, but he’d never… 

He’d never made him outright  _ stop  _ what he was doing. 

It was so foreign to see Jack  _ serious,  _ and he was definitely serious from the look in his eye. If Pitch held back now, his boyfriend was not going to be placated no matter how hard he’d make him come with his fingers. Jack  _ needed  _ it this time. 

Oh  _ fuck.  _

Pitch needed a breath to steady himself and relax his slick hand. At this rate, he was going to lose it before he was even a  _ quarter  _ of the way in and he would not let his own cracking resolve ruin this moment. He was going to make Jack the happiest frost spirit on the whole damn planet and he was going to make the whole bed shake while he did it. 

He didn’t need to ask if Jack was sure, he didn’t need to warn him that he could tell Pitch to stop any time, he was  _ sure  _ the younger man knew that already. Carefully he slid one of Jack’s legs down and off his shoulder and replaced it around his waist, the angle spreading him even further apart and lowering that ass closer, close enough that he could fit his cock in the rift between those cheeks and give an experimental push. The shudder felt  _ so  _ damn good… Pitch had to remember himself when he grabbed up the lube again and offered, “Do you… want the honors, or…?”

“Maybe some other time,” Jack smiled, _smirked,_ watching Pitch shudder and breathe and _take his time,_ even with Jack shuddering and breathing with him, “I’m enjoying the show and I’ve gotta feeling you’ll come if I touch you now.”

Pitch had to chuckle at his own helplessness as he worked the bottle open, hurriedly pouring a small amount out and literally tossing it aside before he grabbed his own dick, “You’re probably right. Do me a favor and make sure  _ you  _ don’t come before I’m all the way in.” And stars, just thinking about being  _ all the way in _ … Pitch moaned while he moved his hand, avoiding more  _ sensitive  _ areas to just spread the lube and be done and  _ not  _ climax to the idea of something that he could be  _ experiencing. _

Jack shrugged one shoulder, working on controlling his breathing and calming himself down. He  _ still  _ wanted this to last. “Even if I do, keep fucking me, okay? I want to feel you come inside me. I want to feel  _ all  _ of this.”

“Good  _ Gods,  _ Jack…” It was at that instant, Pitch  _ had  _ to stop touching himself or it was going to be all over. In fact, now that his boyfriend was  _ empty,  _ he bent down for a messy kiss he’d been craving, just to take his mind off his dick for a few agonizing seconds. He pulled away with half-lidded and utterly enchanted eyes, his dark heart beating so soundly for this spirit underneath him. 

It was time to finally fuck him. Pitch used his hands to help guide him where he needed to be and pushed the heavy head of his cock into Jack’s waiting entrance. 

Jack was practically vibrating, he was so excited. It took everything he had to stay still and wait, but once it had started, once that  _ little bit  _ of cock was inside him, Jack was frozen on the spot. Everything narrowed down to his ass, where he was getting to feel Pitch’s cock, where it had never been before,  _ for the first time.  _ It… It burned a little, too. It was bigger than his fingers. But it also… It  _ filled  _ the space inside him like fingers never could. Jack would swear he could feel it pressing against all of his walls as it pushed inside him. It was  _ breathtaking,  _ and Jack had to gasp just to keep breathing. And without even realizing, his hands fell from over his head to reach for Pitch,  _ needing  _ his boyfriend close while he was being overwhelmed like this…

Pitch was there in an instant. He made sure a supporting arm was under Jack to keep him close and his other hand found purchase on one of those beautiful thighs while he fell into the frostling’s reach. Holy fucking  _ Hell _ , Jack felt so good around him,  _ he  _ was breathing heavy too. This was infinitely more intense than he could have ever imagined, like it was some religious rite that Pitch should have been too unworthy to participate in. Not once did he stop his progress, already halfway now and Jack just looked so… Pitch moaned and tucked his head into the Guardian’s neck, “Almost there, Jack.  _ Oh _ you’re so fucking  _ tight _ …” 

Jack hiccuped and clutched at Pitch’s shoulders and back, legs wrapping tight around the Boogeyman’s waist and holding on for dear life.  _ Almost there  _ was so fucking vague, but Jack could already feel that Pitch was deeper in than his fingers could reach. Pitch was touching new parts of him, now. Parts that had never been touched, before. And that was exciting, and arousing, and exhilarating, but it also hurt a little bit and Jack was  _ so glad  _ that he was doing this with someone who cared about him, because if he had felt  _ alone  _ in this moment, he wasn’t sure how he could have withstood it. 

But he wasn’t alone. He had Pitch. And Pitch was saying stupid cliche things. “No shit, you’re fucking  _ huge.”  _

Pitch’s laugh was clipped and staggered between his breaths, sinking in those last few inches with Jack surrounding him inside and out. There was something beautiful about it and he only hoped it was living up to everything his boyfriend was hoping for when hips were  _ finally  _ pressed up as tight as they could go between Jack’s legs. No longer were they two separate lonely spirits. Now they were one, and the connection was felt on so many more levels than physical. Not only had Jack captured his dick, but his whole damn heart. If the Guardian ever left him after  _ this _ , he’d be broken beyond repair. To be alone after feeling  _ this  _ complete… 

The Nightmare King’s hands were officially trembling clinging to the winter spirit, sinking into such unbelievable pleasure he’d never felt before. “ _ Jack… _ ” 

“I know,” they were the only words Jack could think to say, holding as tight as he was to a man who was shaking like that. It was nice to know he wasn’t alone in being overwhelmed, either. To know that Pitch was just as affected by this as Jack was. To know, in specific, that Jack wasn’t being weak or unreasonable to feel  _ this much  _ about what they were doing, right now. 

Because he was feeling  _ so much  _ right now. He felt full, he felt wary, he felt happy, he felt frustrated, he felt satisfied, he felt pain, he felt unadulterated  _ joy,  _ he felt  _ complete,  _ he felt like he might never be alone again. And he hadn’t even had his fucking orgasm, yet. He was really looking forward to that, too.

“I know, Pitch. Ready when you are.”

It was ironic that Jack sounded more in control than the one in the relationship who’d  _ had _ sex before. Of course Pitch had never had sex like  _ this  _ before, but all the same… 

He needed to pull it together and prove that he wasn’t all talk. Another breath, a few scattered kisses, another moment of just  _ feeling  _ Jack all snug up against his dick, and then Pitch moved. A shallow thrust to begin with, already enough to steal the air from his lungs, until he built up his slow rhythm, one that Jack could truly get a sense of each inch of him as it pushed in and out. 

“You feel so  _ good _ ,” Pitch confessed in a heated whisper, mouthing the tip of the icy spirit’s ear, “You’d best hold on tight.”    


The first sound Jack made was a grunt, that shallow thrust moving  _ his whole body  _ in a way he had not expected. And then he was unusually quiet while he concentrated on the foreign feelings inside him, all around him. He liked Pitch talking to him, a reminder of who he was with, who he let inside him, but ultimately, Jack wasn’t paying attention. 

It was different from fingers in ways he hadn’t expected. He knew he would be more full, he knew Pitch could be closer to him, but he hadn’t quite realized the way he would be able to feel every little move Pitch made. Pitch leans forward, Jack’s ass leans forward too, Pitch shifts his hips, Jack feels it in his ass, Pitch  _ adjusts his knee,  _ it  _ tugs on Jack’s ass.  _ It was kind of ridiculous, but also required a massive amount of trust that Jack knew he felt with Pitch, but hadn’t known he would need like  _ this. _

It was scary, to think Pitch could probably hurt him just by  _ slipping  _ right now, but he really did trust him. Jack was in good hands, and he was plenty excited to be there. The Guardian bit his lip in his concentration, and experimentally tried out what it felt like to move his hips on his own. 

Pitch wasn’t prepared for the movement, one little extra sensation that shot from his dick up his spine and he tried muffling the noise that came out of him by biting into Jack’s neck. If Jack wanted to help set their pace, then Pitch wanted to meet him halfway for a dance. He let the younger spirit try it a couple more times before Pitch was able to counter it perfectly, push for pull, down for up, sinking even  _ deeper  _ into his lover like it was somehow possible. 

And then it occurred to him amongst all this new, unexplored territory how  _ quiet  _ it was. Jack couldn’t shut  _ up  _ about his dick before, and now that he had it… Pitch picked his head up so he could get a look at his frosty partner, “How is it, Jack? How do you feel?” 

The Guardian blinked, as if Pitch asking him a question was a totally alien concept, and turned his gaze to meet his lover’s where he actually had to  _ focus  _ on properly seeing him. He was just so… taken with every sense that  _ wasn’t  _ sight. But he had a smile on for Pitch; it was easy to smile right now. And then he tried to answer the question.

It’s good, came to mind first. But that was terribly lackluster and Jack didn’t want to offend Pitch’s sensibilities.  _ Full.  _ Overwhelmed. A little scared, maybe. Pitch would already know that one. Connected.  _ Complete.  _ God, that was so cliche. He felt… not alone. That was most important to him, he realized in a flash. He felt… “Together.”

Pitch smiled back, fondness and lust making his silvery-gold eyes shine. That was terribly sweet, but it didn’t answer his question. He dipped his face down closer so their lips were almost touching, “Of course. That’s not going to change for a good, long eternity,” he promised with a quick kiss, “But how do you  _ feel?  _ Are you having fun, my Snow Angel?” 

Jack nodded a little bit, pleased to hear his term of endearment in this circumstance. He  _ felt  _ fucking endeared. But then he squirmed, like he usually did, and held tight to Pitch for grounding, “I feel…” Shit, he really hated how it sounded, but, “good. I mean, I like how I feel. But I’m not…” 

He squirmed again, trying to feel what he usually felt when Pitch’s fingers were in him. It  _ felt  _ like he was almost there, but, “...You’re not hitting it. Or you are, just not enough. You know? Like. ...Like, almost.” 

Jack wondered if he lost his ability to form sentences somewhere along the line, and laughed at himself, letting his head fall back and refusing to worry about it. “Fuck, Pitch, I don’t think I can make sense while you’re doing this to me.” As if to emphasize what, ‘this,’ was, in case Pitch forgot, Jack’s thighs tightened at his waist and both feet pressed flat against his back, toes flexing into the skin just above Pitch’s ass.

The Boogeyman hummed out a little pleased note, bucking into Jack once at the feel of those clingy legs. He would have loved it if Jack never let go of him… 

But there was a problem here and it needed to be fixed, first with talk, “Don’t worry. The words will be next to go. I haven’t been able to focus on  _ aiming  _ just yet,” followed by action. He kept most of his adjustments on his end so the Guardian could remain comfortable, turning his head down to look at where they were joined and  _ fuck  _ that was so sexy.  _ Distracting.  _ A turn of his hips and a shift on the bed, and then Pitch nearly pulled all the way out, only to slam back in at his ‘corrected’ angle

And then they were back to Jack being  _ loud.  _

Shock more than anything made him cry out, but there  _ was  _ pleasure, too. In the way he always did, Jack tried to plant his feet and lift his hips and  _ squirm  _ until Pitch was hitting him just right and then he couldn’t keep his eyes open for anything, all of his attention on his ass and Pitch’s dick and the truly  _ spectacular  _ way he felt when the two came together.  _ Now  _ he felt better than good. Now he felt full and complete and good and  _ good.  _

And Pitch’s face was right above him where all he had to do was lift his head and kiss him. 

Then it was  _ perfect.  _

Perfect enough for Pitch to let some of his control slip, to let him lose himself in that kiss and all the sensations charging up and down his throbbing cock. With Jack helping to keep him right where he needed to be, the shade removed one of his hands to lovingly cup the side of his boyfriend’s face while he sucked in all of that frosty breath and gave back with his tongue. Gods, he wanted to come, hard and heavy, leave a lasting imprint on the nomadic ice spirit that volunteered to spend the rest of his life with him. He couldn’t have possibly stopped the way he jerked harder,  _ faster  _ into that beautiful ass, and just to make the deal even sweeter, his other hand was drifting away to reunite with Jack’s dick, embracing it with long fingers and a firm squeeze the next time his hips snapped all the way in. 

Which ultimately meant that Jack was too busy whimpering, moaning, gasping, and shouting to actively participate in his beloved kiss.  _ God,  _ Pitch was pounding into him,  _ so deep,  _ and it felt… Honestly, it felt like his ass was never going to recover. Like he was going to feel  _ well fucked  _ for the rest of his life, and that thought made him smile, giddy and delirious on new sensations and pleasure. He liked… He liked feeling Pitch’s skin rubbing against his with every thrust. He liked feeling the flex of Pitch’s back muscles as he strained to keep balance, and seriously, how the fuck was he balancing right now? He liked how their bodies were lined up and fit together and rhythmically in tune in a way that they can’t be when Pitch’s arm is between them. 

This… This was worth it. This was everything Jack wanted. This was satisfying as  _ hell,  _ and Jack eagerly bucked into Pitch’s fist to climb higher toward his end.

Pitch didn’t think he’d ever been so drunk on the sounds coming out of his boyfriend’s mouth before. Except they were being muffled and Jack wasn’t quite kissing back anyway, so he pulled away from his lips but  _ not  _ his tongue to better listen to the symphony of how Jack felt finally getting fucked by the King of Nightmares. 

Not that Pitch didn’t have an answering symphony of his own. How could he possibly keep quiet when he was buried to the hilt inside Jack Frost?  _ The  _ Jack Frost. The spirit he was so sure he could find companionship and understanding in so many months ago. And now they were sharing something so impossibly intimate and it felt so  _ fucking amazing… _ Jack’s walls were practically hugging his cock, lukewarm and snug and it sent such an electric heat through him,  _ charging  _ him onwards to keep thrusting, keep drilling into the spot that would make his lover scream. 

He almost couldn’t handle the extra tingle of pride when in the background, after a few particularly hard thrusts, he heard something clatter to the floor.  _ Jack’s staff _ , he realized. Jack’s staff that had been hanging  _ on the globe.  _ That sound already got to him as it was. To hear it now with the Guardian moaning his ecstasy like that… 

His grip was rougher, less refined, pumping Jack in a frantic fist because, “ _ Fuck _ !…  _ Jack _ . Oh Jack, I’m close…!” 

" _ Please _ , Pitch, come," making Pitch curse was a favorite pastime of Jack's, and he managed enough presence of mind to appreciate it even now. There was a broad, pleased grin on his face as he rocked into Pitch, letting his head fall back and chasing that high. He wanted to come, he really did, but more than that, "Come in me, Pitch. Please. I want to feel it. I  _ need _ to feel it."

Never let it be said that Pitch didn’t deliver when he promised to give Jack anything and everything he wanted. If Jack wanted to feel him  _ explode  _ all over those virgin walls that had never known anything else but this… 

The hand not on his boyfriend’s cock dove straight down to grab onto a slim hip, keeping that body steady when he felt himself starting to fall. It began as a stuttering cry before his ragged voice managed to form it into the Guardian’s name, all of his pleasure and affection shooting out of him and into the younger man in one sudden, potent, mind-blowing rush. And his hips wouldn’t stop moving through it. The thrusts were shaky but pointed, milking his own dick until every last drop of his spend had been stuffed somewhere deep within Jack.  _ His  _ Jack. 

Jack had fallen strangely quiet again, jaw slack and eyes closed as he concentrated on that feeling, on every thrust Pitch made inside him. He felt… God, fuck, he really hadn’t thought he could feel any  _ more  _ full, yet here he was, feeling fucking  _ filled to the brim.  _ Pitch was falling apart above him and it all came down to these sensations between them. He was still, utterly, wanting nothing he did to interfere with whatever Pitch was doing to him and then-

Silence suddenly became a harsh gasp when that gorgeous cock pressed into him one too many times and the pleasure that had been flooding his body pulled him under like a rip current, instant, unforgiving, and unstoppable. Jack jerked, out of control, and clung desperately to Pitch’s body as he lost himself completely to the sex, falling apart himself.

But the Boogeyman was there to pick up the pieces no matter how unsteady he felt. Or perhaps make those pieces shatter into smaller ones. Pitch had  _ just  _ emptied the last of his release when he felt Jack tense up around him and it had his whole body feeling completely  _ boneless.  _ He’d collapsed onto the frost spirit’s chest with a desperate moan, keeping his hold solid on Jack’s waist and sort of ...lazily squirming to keep rolling his hips, keep his dick moving through Jack’s orgasm, stirring up the mess he’d just left inside him. And  _ fuck,  _ it still felt so  _ good.  _ Had he the physical ability to come again he was  _ sure  _ he would have, but for now he was going to enjoy the ebbing high and make sure his lover did too. He’d remember to breathe later. 

Jack distantly realized he was shaking, not  _ bad,  _ but still definitely shaking. It took conscious effort to unstick his nails from Pitch’s shoulders as the bliss slowly faded, as the world seeped back in, and the aches from being so tense finally made themselves known… Along with another delightful detail, “Are you really still fucking me?”

If his lazy writhing could really be considered as such. Pitch was slightly disappointed to hear that Jack was able to string sentences together already but it’d been a pretty overwhelming experience for him too. That he was trying to make last longer. Except Jack calling him out on it made him hesitate. “I ...thought,” shit, he was out of breath, “I thought you wanted… to be fucked through your orgasm…” 

Jack blushed, cheeks flushing as dark as they ever had, and ran the fingers of both hands up through Pitch’s hair. After everything… “I didn’t really feel it.”

Pitch froze, entire body going taut and eyes wide. A brief fear began creeping into his chest and oh Gods if the Nightmares were going to come after him right  _ now  _ when he was probably more emotionally vulnerable than he’d been nine months ago… Fuck, and now that he thought about it, Jack  _ had  _ been almost silent through it too, “You didn’t… you didn’t feel your orgasm?” 

Jack had been  _ just about  _ to ask if he’d done something wrong, with Pitch tensing up on him like this, but no, now he was just blushing even darker, almost a purple hue. “I meant…” He shouldn’t be embarrassed; he really shouldn’t, “My, uh, my orgasm was kind of intense. If you did anything while I was…  _ feeling it quite a lot,  _ I didn’t notice.”

_... _ Oh _.  _ “ _ Oh _ ,” And Pitch collapsed again. Or rather, he was already down, so, re-melted? He was done moving, that was for certain. Relief slowly erased that fearful spike, but the emotional jump was a bit much after having the most intimate sex of his long life. The Nightmare King felt exhausted. He missed out on seeing that deep blush on Jack’s face. “That’s… okay. That’s fine. Are you feeling good? That’s all that matters…” he muttered tiredly, lacking his usual eloquence. 

Jack certainly noticed  _ that.  _ Pitch was rambling like  _ Jack  _ usually did. Which was terribly noteworthy. He snickered and buried his nose in Pitch’s hair, running his fingers through it again and again, “I feel amazing. Every part of me. No worries, Pitch, your cock delivered.”

Pitch really fucking liked the petting. It was soothing and slightly chilly and made it seem like the little tingles down his spine would never end. He didn’t want to fall asleep, not before Jack did, but his eyes were already refusing to open under the heavy spell of pleasure. “Nnn…” he groaned intelligently, “Damn right, it did. But you should be more… nonsense-y.” 

The Guardian snorted a laugh and giggled behind Pitch’s ear. Nonsense-y. Oh God, Pitch was being adorable. “I already had my turn at that, remember?” But then Jack frowned, whined, and  _ squirmed,  _ “Your dick’s shrinking already…”

The Boogeyman, undeniably and before he could stop himself,  _ whined back _ . First the squirming, which his dick was  _ hypersensitive  _ to at the moment, and then the fact that Jack didn’t sound happy. He was sure the icy spirit had laid sprawled out for longer in a post-orgasm haze when just his fingers or tongue were involved. Maybe his dick really didn’t deliver… Or maybe, damnit, how long had he been lying here useless for?    


In an amazing show of bravado and determination, Pitch braced his arms against the cushions… 

And didn’t move an inch. Fuck it, he wanted his petting right now. “You want it again? We’ll go again. Whatever you want, just ...five minutes.” 

In an amazing show of unapologetic glee, Jack  _ laughed,  _ helplessly and breathlessly but still loud, cuddling Pitch’s head to his chest and mimicking the gesture with his legs wrapping almost double around the Nightmare King’s waist. “You’re perfect, Pitch,” he sighed, smile bright as he relaxed, letting that dick slide out of him bit by bit even if he was sad to see it go, “You’re so perfect. Exactly everything I want…”

Pitch had no idea what he’d done to warrant such praise but… his smile was hopeless. Being so completely enveloped in affection like this was more than he could have possibly hoped for. It gave him the energy to stop being so selfish and return some of it, worming his long arms around to curl underneath Jack’s and over the back of his shoulders. He picked his head up enough to lean in for a gentle brush of lips and touch their foreheads together, “Alright fine,” he grinned playfully, “Three minutes.” 

That had Jack laughing again, quieter this time, and he settled faster, meeting Pitch’s gaze with a bright one of his own. “It’s okay. I don’t need more, I just…” Tentatively, timidly, the frost spirit’s legs uncurled to press his feet into Pitch’s back, over the soft, sculpted curve of his ass and down both thighs, then back again in a slow, uncertain massage, “got kind of used to, you know,  _ comfortable,  _ with your cock in me.”

Liquid metal eyes fluttered shut feeling those feet work  _ wonders  _ on his lower back. How the Hell did Jack even manage to  _ do  _ that? He was so agile, so flexible. They were  _ definitely  _ going to play with that soon. Maybe too soon. “ _ Mm.  _ I’m rather comfortable inside you too. It’s yours whenever you want it, Gorgeous. I wouldn’t want you to feel  _ empty _ …” And then he was sucking in a little gasp when one of those feet brushed over some unknown sensitive spot on the back of his thigh and Pitch had to say something, “You have the most  _ incredible  _ feet, you know. I think I’d like to suck on your toes sometime…” 

Jack jerked to a stop in surprise, blinked at that announcement, then decided he could do worse and eased back into his massage. If Pitch wanted to suck on his toes, Jack wasn’t going to judge him for it. After all, Jack was turned on when Pitch was a creep. They all had their kinks. 

Meanwhile, after another experimental squirm, Jack had to admit that he wasn’t feeling very full anymore. Still wet, pretty sticky, kind of sore in that way when you know you’ve had a good workout. But also, “I do feel empty.” And then, just to be cheeky, “My ass made all that room for you, and now it’s just a gaping, vacant lot.”

“Damnit, I  _ knew  _ you were going to be an insatiable brat once I gave it to you,” Pitch muttered faux-irritably, looking nothing but smug. The feet thing would have to be put on hold. Maybe for quite some time if the lack of response was anything to go by. Jack needed tending to in  _ other  _ ways right now and it was only going to work if they were  _ both  _ turned on. “I’ll keep you in this bed for  _ weeks _ , Jack, filling you and refilling you with my come. I’m going to leave my mark  _ all over you. _ ” 

None of that sounded like a bad idea to Jack. He was grinning shamelessly, already looking forward to how Pitch planned to keep him in bed, since Jack was so restless and all. He couldn’t hide the challenging glint to his eyes however, when he smirked and oh, so casually asked, “And when do I get  _ my  _ turn?”

Pitch was apparently not ready for that challenge. A look of confusion passed over his face that had him pausing his taunting to clarify, “To mark me? ….You want to fuck  _ me _ ?” 

"Don't sound so surprised, Pumpkin. Why wouldn't I?" he challenged again.

Fuck, damnit, shit… Pitch felt himself blushing. “Ah… well with the way you go on about having my dick in  _ you  _ all the time…” 

Jack smirked all over again, shrugging carelessly, "Well I had my priorities in order, you see..."

...Alright then. It was confirmed. Jack wanted to fuck him. Jack wanted to fuck  _ him.  _ Pitch had never let anyone fuck him before. There may have been an interested party or five, but in that sense, Pitch was as much a virgin as Jack was.  _ Was.  _ He’d popped that cherry  _ good  _ on Jack… 

The Boogeyman was very unprepared on what to think of the frost spirit getting in his  _ own  _ ass, but his answer wasn’t going to change, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Jack.”

Jack chalked up the lack of his usual enthusiastic consent to how utterly  _ exhausted  _ Pitch must be. That was alright. He’d done all the work, so…

The Guardian cuddled and pet and made Pitch comfortable instead of pressuring him with more sex talk right now. He just had one last thing to clear up, and he tried to make it sound unimportant when he asked, “So… That was your last line, right? There’s no more boundaries to cross? We’re done with the pacing?”

“Ah…” Considering what they were  _ just  _ talking about, Pitch was understandably hesitant, even nestled as he was in Jack’s affectionate attention. Which he may or may not have been using to sweeten him up about getting in his ass and damnit if that didn’t have the potential to work. Did he  _ need  _ the pacing though? Surely he could handle anything Jack dished out, right? 

Then again, what did Pitch  _ really  _ know about how much Jack could dish out? “I suppose, just… Be aware that it would be my first time too.”

Wait, what? Jack paused his petting to lift his head and meet the Nightmare King’s eyes, “First time for what, Sugar?” Because he  _ knew  _ Pitch had fucked someone before, but he was speaking in future tense, anyway.

Oh Jack  _ would  _ make him spell it all out plainly, wouldn’t he. The boy could be so dense sometimes. Pitch sighed and his gaze drifted sideways when he admitted, “If your intention is to fuck me. I’ve never let anyone… do that before.” 

“Oh,” Well that was alright. Jack could be gentle. There was also a bit of a thrill to the idea that Pitch hadn’t let anyone, but he’d let  _ him.  _ Although that hadn’t really been what Jack meant by boundaries, unless Pitch was intending for Jack to take as God damn long to get in him as Pitch had  _ Jack’s  _ ass. But his hang up was actually, “Why not?”

The look in Pitch’s eyes grew distant and cold remembering his little trysts of many, many years ago. It wasn’t anything he looked back on fondly, as none of them meant much of anything besides a heated moment of weakness and desperation. “I never trusted anyone I was with. It was simply about the release, for the both of us, and I’ve always been the one in charge.” 

Which was exactly the kind of thing Jack had been avoiding. Maybe not… to the same degree. Pitch almost seemed  _ angry  _ about it, whereas Jack was just looking for someone who’d still be talking to him after the fact, but this was better, anyway. He liked that he was actually  _ dating  _ the person who showed him this world. It offered a, ‘no holds barred,’ kind of feeling that he was eager to explore, if only Pitch gave him the go ahead for it. Especially the taking charge thing. 

“Well, that’s changing.”

Pitch tilted his head, wondering  _ which part  _ exactly, but found himself nuzzling closer into the crook of Jack’s neck. Comparing his past to his present and future was not what he considered a fun afterglow activity when the now on its own was so much more appealing. “It’s already changed, Jack. This is the longest and most wanted someone has ever been in my bed.” 

If that wasn’t an evasive answer, then Jack was a summer spirit. Shaking his head in exasperation, Jack  _ bothered  _ to clarify, “It’s not  _ done  _ changing.”

… Alright fine, he’d bite. “What do you have in mind?” 

“I don’t plan, Pitch,” Jack reminded in a straightforward, dry tone, “You’ll find out as I do. But don’t worry,” He teased with a wink, “you usually like my ideas.”

Unfortunately for Pitch that could be as worrisome as it was positively  _ thrilling.  _ But he was courting Jack Frost and he wouldn’t have it any other way, so he placed a kiss underneath his boyfriend’s chin, “I only ask for a small amount of consideration for my virgin ass, Dear.”

“You have it,” Jack granted solemnly, as if  _ he  _ were the king, here. The facade broke a second later when he went back to petting his boyfriend.    


Which made Pitch smile, his own hands kneading into Jack’s soft skin, “Then I’m game for whatever you want.”

“Oh, good,” Jack purred, settling against the pillows to sleep. They had nowhere to be and Pitch was tired, so why not nap? “Because I can be  _ very  _ creative when I want to be.”

Pitch liked that tone of voice out of Jack. He made a little hum of agreement and closed his eyes again, losing against the petting and his own prideful urge to stay awake longer than his lover. 

He was out in under five minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie Jack and Pitch were watching was Django Unchained. 
> 
> The song they were dancing to was 'Thrift Shop' by Postmodern Jukebox.


	6. Come on and Rise, And Welcome to the Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. And then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HELLO WE ARE STILL ALIVE AND HAVE MORE CHEESEY FLUFF TO SHOVE AT YOU. We apologize for the wait and hope the various cameos make up for some of it. Comments and kudos are adored~

Jack had gone to sleep feeling the pleasant, well-worn soreness of exercise. He woke up to the dull burning of muscles wondering what the fuck you put them through yesterday.

But that wasn’t the first thing he noticed.

The first thing, the  _ very first,  _ was the hazy, distant harmony of a sound, a deep, familiar sound. He instantly liked it even though he couldn’t tell at first why, until he woke up just a little bit more. And then he smiled. Pitch was singing?

Pitch hadn’t woken up with the same aches or pains. He was vaguely sore, it’d been a while since he’d done something  _ that  _ rigorous, but otherwise he’d woken up so satisfied and happy it bordered on  _ ridiculous.  _ He felt alive, hopeful,  _ whole _ … 

Inspired. 

It only took a quick look down for him to understand why.  _ Jack.  _ The mischievous imp truly did look angelic in his sleep, his pure white hair wild against the pillows and his expression so peaceful. Then there was that beautiful bare body trapped underneath his own… It was as beautiful as the  _ proven fact  _ that Jack wanted to be here. With him. For how long didn’t matter, because he’d just make himself crazy thinking this ever had to end. 

Pitch had reached out to run his fingers through those white locks. And then came a few kisses that eventually landed his lips on Jack’s ear. The melody he’d began to hum just came to him, until it naturally progressed into soft words.

Which brought him to where he was now, mid-verse to a love song he’d heard amongst the mortal realm years ago that stuck with him. Somehow it didn’t seem like there would ever be a more appropriate time to sing it, 

“ _ \--But did you know, that when it snows _

_ My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?”  _

Pitch caught when those blue eyes opened and smiled. He didn’t see any reason to stop, Jack wasn’t trying to violently throw him off or groaning in pain, so he continued, very gradually reaching for one of the frost spirit’s hands, his long fingers delicately trailing up his forearm and palm until their fingers could entwine. 

“ _ Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray _

_ Ooh, the more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah _

_ And now that your rose is in bloom _

_ A light hits the gloom on the gray…”  _

If his lover hadn't taken his hand, Jack would have reached for Pitch instead. Fuck, he loved it when Pitch serenaded him. It was so classic rom com, but Jack didn't mind or care. Magically, the cliche factor didn’t take away from the sweetness. Jack was just... thrilled beyond measure to have someone in his life willing to wake him up with song. Who does that, really? 

But  _ the song _ ... Jack couldn't help his soft little laugh, biting his lip to half-ass an attempt at tempering the ridiculously large smile on his face. It should be embarrassing, how much he fucking  _ loved _ this. Because, "Oh my God, I know that song..."

A little chuckle made its way into Pitch’s voice hearing Jack’s reaction. He nosed just behind the frostling’s ear like he was nudging him to  _ join in _ if he knew it, but seeing that beaming, radiant smile… The Nightmare King loved the idea of performing a solo to keep it shining strong. 

“ _ There is so much a man can tell you, so much he can say _

_ You remain _

_ My power, my pleasure, my pain _

_ To me you’re like a growing addiction that I can’t deny,”  _ Pitch shifted to pick himself up, looking into Jack’s eyes, “ _ Won’t you tell me is that healthy, baby? _

_ But did you know, that when it snows _

_ My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen?” _

Jack wondered, when Pitch made the challenge so obvious like that, how literal he meant these lyrics. He seemed to be taking them fairly seriously, and to be fair, Jack found it easier to take this song seriously in that smooth, accented voice, too. 

But Jack didn’t want to think about the lyrics. The words didn’t matter. The original intention of the artist who wrote them didn’t matter. What mattered was what  _ Pitch  _ intended, singing softly to him in…  _ their  _ bed, the morning after they had connected so solidly the night before. The look in his eyes, the earnest body language, the way their fingers stayed tied long after the point was made, how he was smiling even through the song. It begged the question of who was getting special treatment here, because the Boogeyman sure made it look like it was him. 

Jack felt so fucking  _ vindicated  _ that he could make someone else  _ that  _ happy.

Pitch moved in again, not wanting to neglect the other ear, and pressed his lips in nice and tight to continue, “ _ Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray _

_ Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels, yeah _

_ And now that your rose is in bloom _

_ A light hits the gloom on the gray…”  _ He carried out the last word, long enough to slowly trail his lips back to a wide, upturned pair. Pitch kissed Jack long, but soft, a gentle transition from song back to silence until he broke away with a wet clacking noise, “Good morning, Jack.” 

Jack’s so-far unclaimed hand immediately came up to wrap around the back of Pitch’s head and keep him from getting too far away. He was still shivering, a bit of a foreign experience, from the sensation of words in his ear. Pitch was  _ magic.  _ “Morning, Babe,” and deserved to be pulled back in for another kiss.

Pitch hummed into the second kiss, letting it get a little hotter and heavier, dipping his tongue into Jack’s mouth for some drawn out moments… His free hand came up to Jack’s face like he tended to do, the backs of his fingers brushing over a pale cheek. “How are you feeling?”

_ “Amazing…”  _ the Guardian whispered on a sigh, eyes lightly closed in obvious bliss. Even after he opened them and smiled sweetly at Pitch all over again, the dazed spell didn’t break. All that sex, all that singing, all the  _ pampering  _ he was doing, and his first words were still out of concern. Jesus. And the other Guardians thought Pitch was out to get him? Then fuck, Jack wanted to be  _ got.  _

Which was the thought that unbalanced Jack’s smile into a mischievous grin, “Or did you mean my ass? Because my ass’s kinda sore, but I figured you knew that.”

The Nightmare King smirked less than innocently. He chuckled and offered sweetly, “Shall I kiss it and make it better?” 

“Are you offering to eat my ass, again?” Jack asked, honest shock coloring his tone. Somehow he had thought their basking would last a little longer, especially with his somewhat delicate state, but… “Because I might be too sore for it, but I’m certainly willing to roll over and try.”

“I’m teasing, Jack,” Pitch reassured with another kiss on his boyfriend’s lips, “You deserve some recovery time. I hope you’ll forgive me for passing out on you. I’m usually much better than that.” 

Jack wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. There was no telling how much more his ass could take, but it seemed like that would be a fun experiment to conduct. So he shrugged, a nice half-way point, he thought. “Nothing to forgive, although I’m eager to learn about this, ‘better.’”

“Stick around, and you’ll find out,” Pitch answered cryptically with an added wink. No point in giving away all his secrets after their first night of official consummation. 

“You don’t have to bribe me, Sugar,” the winter spirit smiled tiredly, relaxing back into the pillows now that he was sure rolling over wouldn’t be necessary. He hadn’t really tried to move his lower body much this morning. He was sure he could stand it, but if he didn’t need to, why aggravate it? “I’m already in for the long haul.”

Jack had said it so casually, but it tugged right at Pitch’s heartstrings. His expression morphed from cocky amusement back to pure and simple happiness. He easily could have sang to the boy all over again. 

But he did love hearing Jack’s voice too, casual talking or  _ otherwise.  _ Pitch dipped down to space some kisses out along his neck, “I’d like to keep it that way.” 

The first thought to cross Jack’s mind was to tease that Pitch should just keep at what he was doing for that, but something held his tongue. He suspected it might have been waking up with a sore ass to a love song. “Pitch,” he said,  _ called,  _ softly, nudging the Nightmare King’s chin back up with a couple cold fingers, “...I’m not going anywhere.”

Pitch let Jack direct him wherever he wanted to go, and then he went and tugged  _ harder  _ at those strings. Damnit. Even when world domination was within his grasp, the shade didn’t think he’d ever  _ felt  _ this much before. It honestly did scare him and his Nightmares could have very easily picked up on it if there wasn’t so much damn affection to counter it. Sighing, he nodded and met those icy blues determinedly, “I believe you, Jack.” 

Satisfied, Jack nodded and allowed it to drop. Pressing the point wouldn’t get him anything more than that, and Jack liked what he had, anyway. “So,” he began instead, loosening his grip on Pitch’s hand to fiddle idly with those long fingers, “nineties love songs, huh?”

“Hn,” Pitch let his head sink down to rest on his boyfriend’s chest, flexing his fingers at the chilly touch that was almost ticklish, “It’s a good song. Don’t hate.” 

“Did you just say, ‘don’t hate’?” Jack practically squeaked, his disbelieving tone went so high. First the yolo, now this. What happened to gracefully aging? Not for Pitch, apparently. It took a calming breath and too much effort to school his expression into something stern, “Abusing nineties cliches is not okay, Pumpkin.”

“I would have been abusing a nineties cliche if I had woken you up with the  _ Macarena _ ,” Pitch argued, “Would you have preferred that?” 

Jack was stunned into silence both by the oddly reasonable argument and the idea that being woken up to the Macarena had the potential to be horrifyingly terrible or utterly awesome. Too late, he realized he had hesitated and groaned, dropping his head heavily into the pillows, “Oh God, that’s going to happen now, isn’t it?”

Pitch grinned, nuzzling obnoxiously into Jack’s chest, “You give me the best ammunition for our war, Darling.”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh, running his fingers through Pitch’s hair again. Oh yes, the  _ war.  _ “Careful, Baby, I’ll hit you with Caramelldansen.”

Yes that war that Pitch definitely didn’t want to be fighting when there were fingers in his hair. But then he cringed at the idea of something so ... _ bubblegum _ coming out of his precious sound system. “Gods you  _ would  _ know that one…” 

“If it becomes War of the Terrible Music Choices,” Jack spoke gravely, twirling one particularly soft lock around his pointer finger, “I will win.”

It was hard to be disgruntled when he was so comfortable, but Pitch managed a small groan, “Does that mean you didn’t like my song?” 

“I loved your song,” and there was no way to mistake the honesty in his voice. Jack’s eyes were soft when he admitted, “I love it when you sing to me.”

Pitch craned his head back a bit like he was trying to look at Jack without moving from his spot. The only moving he did was to stroke his hand up and down the side of that thin body he was fully utilizing as his pillow, “You inspire it in me. You get the most precious look on your face when I do it.”

Jack huffed a tiny laugh and decided to confess the thought that hadn't left him since that very first song Pitch hadn't really been singing to him, "That's 'cause I fall in love with you a little more each time."

The Boogeyman swore his formerly locked away heart skipped three, if not  _ more,  _ beats. At the use of  _ that  _ word… He had to prop himself up, regarding the spirit beneath him with a most shocked expression and wide gold and silver eyes. 

Jack Frost was in love with him. Jack Frost was in love with  _ Pitch Black.  _

And all it took was a little  _ singing?! _

Pitch dove down and rushed a kiss on cold lips, then two, then three, his fingers clinging a little tighter to Jack’s, his forehead touching the Guardian’s, and the words were already flowing out despite himself, “ _ I’ve been kissed by a rose on the gray,”  _ because if that was true, and just  _ looking  _ at Jack he had no reason to think it  _ wasn’t,  _ then he wanted it. He wanted Jack to fall for him harder, as much as possible,  _ more  _ than possible. 

Pitch Black was just as in love with Jack Frost. 

“ _ There is so much a man can tell you, so much he can say _

_ You remain, my power, my pleasure, my pain,”  _ He’d known, he felt it happening for quite some time, it must have been love, “ _ To me you’re like a growing addiction that I can’t deny _

_ Won’t you tell me, is that healthy baby? _

_ But did you know, that when it snows _

_ My eyes become large and the light you shine can be seen?”,  _ There was really no other way to explain his behavior, and Pitch was sure somewhere out there Seifer was laughing at him because he’d had him pegged from the beginning. So did Fuuma for that matter. 

But Pitch didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed or ashamed or even scared of it. Not anymore, not knowing Jack returned those deep emotions. He just wanted them to fall deeper under this spell. 

“ _ Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray _

_ Ooh, the more I get of you, the stranger it feels, yeah _

_ And now that your rose is in bloom _

_ A light hits the gloom on the gray…”  _

Jack was amused, and pleased, to note that apparently Pitch Black did not believe love was a zero sum game. Just like every other time, Jack felt that undeniable fondness for the shade that had him smiling like everything in the world was perfect and never wanting it to stop. Even if the song was, seriously, Kiss from a Rose. 

He returned those hurried kisses with unhurried ones, careful not to obstruct those lips just in case they felt like gifting him with more music. He honestly hadn't thought tossing the word out would cause such a stir. It was fairly obvious how into each other they were, love or no love, but perhaps Pitch had a history with it that Jack didn't know. It wouldn't change how he felt, but...

Well, watching Pitch flip his shit for a term of endearment was pretty spectacular, so Jack had no complaints.

Pitch took his time to study Jack as he finished, watching his expression change, admiring it, memorizing what it looked like to be fallen in love with. Damn… 

He  _ really  _ should have tried that back in Antarctica. 

But Pitch would just have to make up for lost time and enjoy every last second of it now. “Did it work?” he inquired playfully. 

"Like a charm," Jack answered, unashamed of his weakness. No point in hiding something you'd be thrilled to have abused.

Pitch did not know how Jack could be so casual about the whole thing. Maybe his 'teenage' perception of love was different or maybe he was just that sure, but the shadowman was still reeling from the admission. 

He did his best to keep it contained and remained equally casual. "You aren't allowed around any sirens."

That was a really good point that had not occurred to Jack, which meant it startled a laugh out of him. He was pretty sure he hadn't believed in sirens when Jack was human, but, well, that meant nothing.

"I don't think that's how sirens work," the Guardian teased, "Just you."

"I don't care how you think they  _ work,  _ I'm not going to let some unworthy soul come around and try to sing me out of  _ my  _ lover," Pitch proclaimed somewhere between playful mischief and  _ deadly serious.  _

Jack really only heard the deadly serious part, but he...  _ liked _ that Pitch was possessive like that.  _ Liked _ that someone wanted him around that bad. "I promise not to go near any sirens, then."

Pleased, Pitch closed in for a kiss, deep and sudden, like it was an official binding contract. Which needed lots of tongue to go over all the fine print. He was licking his lips when he pulled away, a bit of a growl to his voice, "You're  _ mine,  _ Jack."

This was possibly the first time since his defeat that Jack had seen the man possessed that was Pitch Black, Nightmare King. He seemed a little crazed, a little desperate. Jack worried for him. That the threat of love and losing it was what made him this way. 

Trying to reel him in would backfire. It would be like taking back his words and Jack didn't want to. He meant them. He loved Pitch. So he placed his hand sweetly on the Boogeyman's cheek and reasserted his  _ claim, _ "You're mine, Pitch."

The Nightmare King leaned into that touch willingly, letting it center him. There wasn't any part of him that could possibly deny Jack's words. The winter spirit had Pitch wrapped around his finger since the day Jack made good on his promise. He  _ wanted  _ to belong to someone, to be that important. To think that someone would be Jack Frost, a  _ Guardian _ ...

Pitch turned and kissed the center of that icy palm, "I'm yours."

“Good,” Jack affirmed curtly, petting Pitch’s face with his fingers, then creeping them up and through the Boogeyman’s hair again because he seriously could not get enough of that, and lounged back grandly on his cushiony globe, “So I don’t feel like leaving the nest today; I hope you didn’t have  _ plans.”  _

Pitch scoffed, his angel looking more appropriately like a spoiled _Ice Prince,_ but he resettled for more petting. He held out his hand still not tangled with Jack’s theatrically, and sighed, “I suppose I can always reschedule tormenting mortal souls with nightmares disturbing enough to make them question their own reality for another night. If you insist.” 

Jack smiled, trying to look smug but he had a feeling his honest amusement was leaking through the mask. It wasn’t his fault that Pitch was fucking adorable. “And I want candy,” which was really a given between them, but if Jack was going to be lying here, lazing about and making demands, candy would be among them, “and some cookies. And my overly sweet coffee,” which Pitch would have to get up to make, and that would be sad, but then Pitch could come back and Jack could welcome him back and that could be fun, “and I want  _ you  _ to feed them to me,” something that was probably going to happen anyway, but he was making demands, so.

….

Well okay, Jack was in  _ full  _ Ice Prince mode. Was it Pitch’s own indulgence that helped create such a monster?... 

Preposterous. 

Jack just made it really fucking hard to say no. 

Pitch held up a finger, almost  _ looking  _ like he had something to say about this that was reasonable. He’d even opened his mouth for it. But, “What kind of cookies, and are store-stolen acceptable?” was what came out. 

Jack bit his lip, looking a little sheepish, and shrugged the tiniest bit, because it hadn’t even occurred to him that Pitch might  _ bake the cookies himself,  _ but fuck if the Nightmare King wasn’t a go big or go home kind of guy. Jack  _ adored _ it. “Oreos are what came to mind honestly, but if you’ve got some pumpkin spice specialty, you know I’m game.”

“ _ Jack,” _ Pitch started suddenly, head up and alert all over again to deliver this urgent news, “They  _ make  _ pumpkin spice oreos. I’ve seen them.” 

The Guardian of Fun’s eyes widened so much they hurt, and then he was kissing Pitch again, saying between their lips, “Best. Boyfriend.  _ Ever.”  _

...Pitch just wasn’t going to mention that they were far past the season of pumpkin spice when he was getting kisses like that. He’d find some. Someone  _ somewhere  _ had to of stocked up. 

It was just a little painful to think of leaving this bed, leaving Jack, Jack who  _ loved him _ … 

“Anything else while I’m out, dear? We still have some candy corn left, but if you have another special request…” 

Jack kind of loved being called, ‘dear.’ It was so Good Housekeeping. So domestic. He liked the idea of being domestic. So long as he had someone to be domestic with.

Gripping Pitch’s shoulder as tight as he dared, Jack tugged his lover close, “Hurry back, Sugar Daddy, ‘cause I want  _ you  _ most of all.”

Pitch couldn’t rightly say anything about the pet name. He chose instead to be charmed and amused with Jack’s shameless flirting, pressing in as close as possible and dragging his tongue around the tip of a pale ear, “Maybe I need to make  _ sure  _ you’re going to miss me, first…” 

Jack shuddered and whined, “I’m gonna be bored and sore without you, don’t make it worse, Babe. Just make it  _ so much better  _ when you get back.”

But Pitch wasn’t done nipping and nibbling and sucking on that ear, his hand boldly rubbing over Jack’s chest and thumbing over a nipple. “I have no doubt that I’m going to come back to you doing whatever it is you do on your phone and not even notice an hour has passed,” he murmured when he finally let go. 

It was torture, but at least Pitch wasn’t going to leave him with a hard on to take care of. “I’ll notice an hour has passed,” the frost spirit pouted, though he had to admit, “but yeah, I’ll probably be on my phone. I really  _ don’t  _ feel like leaving the bed, today. Maybe not even tomorrow.”

That made the Boogeyman chuckle, a distinctly smug sound, as he finally rose into a seated position, “I did say I could keep you in this bed for weeks. This is only the beginning, Jackie Boy.” 

“You have no idea how excited I am. I literally do not have the words,” the tone was dry, but the smile was so real, and Jack’s eyes were glued to Pitch’s chest, stomach, God, those arms, his thighs, that  _ cock…  _ “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

He couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as the sight  _ Jack  _ made, all fair skin and sex-tousled hair and those crystalline eyes looking at  _ Pitch  _ like that. Damnit, he  _ knew  _ getting out of their nest was going to physically hurt. Already he just wanted to pounce the young spirit back into the bedding… 

“And you have a wicked, wicked tongue,” Pitch countered, raising their joined hands so he could place one last kiss on the back of Jack’s. He was done for if he tried for one on the lips. “I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

“You do that, Shadowman,” the frost spirit grinned, “and then I’ll show you how wicked my tongue can  _ really  _ be.”

Needless to say, Pitch was welcomed back to their nest with an  _ abundance  _ of oral attention when he returned an hour later on the dot. With those star-foresaken cookies. That weren’t even eaten for a whole other hour while the Boogeyman was being shown how much he was missed. 

Jack was still too sore to move around and suck his cock, but that was something Pitch never pushed for anyway. His ears were nearly sensitive enough to make up for it. 

The rest of the day and night was carried out in the same lazy fashion. They shared their snacks, their drinks, their lips, just enjoying each other’s bodies as much as possible. Pitch kept things slow and gentle, but no less passionate. It did worry him to see Jack wince when he tried curling his legs around him like he had a penchant for doing, but he knew that soreness would go away. The Nightmare King just did everything in his power to distract his boyfriend from thinking too hard about his aching ass. 

That Pitch  _ really  _ wanted to be inside of again. He would bide his time. 

It wasn’t as if he  _ didn’t  _  have enough to enjoy with the way Jack didn’t want to let go of him unless it was for a refill, or more treats. This same pattern continued on into the next day and night. Pitch had changed things up with a little massage, hoping that would sooth some of the lingering soreness, but it’d eventually morphed into something more heated and the shadowman only narrowly resisted igniting that ache all over again. 

Jack still didn’t want to leave his bed by the third day. 

He knew he would have to, eventually. It was still winter outside; someone was going to be dying for a snow day soon. And he would be glad to bring it, when the time came. But until then, Jack was milking this for all it was worth. His ass hadn’t actually hurt for about half a day, but the way Pitch looked when he was cradling Jack for what he thought was Jack’s benefit was too precious to give up. It might get old soon, but it hadn’t yet, and Jack liked that someone cared if he was sore.

_ Now,  _ though. Now Pitch was bringing him another disgustingly sweet coffee contraption. It was  _ barely  _ even coffee. It was like drinkable candy. And it was pointlessly complicated. Jack had known that when he asked for it, but he asked for it anyway just to see if Pitch would make it. Pitch not only made it, Pitch was bringing it in a ridiculously fancy cup with lots of whipped cream and a fucking  _ cookie  _ straw and Jack had to wonder how he had ever gotten so lucky as to find a boyfriend who  _ understood him so well.  _

Which was how the balance tipped in Jack’s mind and returning the favor became far more important than being cuddled a little longer. 

Well, not quite, he thought a second later. But enough to properly  _ re-earn  _ his cuddling.

After the coffee was gone, and the last bite of cookie straw fed to the Boogeyman, the Guardian pounced and got to work. 

Jack’s first blowjob would be forever ingrained in Pitch’s memories. It was obvious it wasn’t quite his lover’s favorite thing in the world, although he seemed to relish in all the new and fun ways to play with his dick. A fact that was further evidenced when Jack went and abandoned blowing him to start riding him instead. Pitch, while careful of Jack’s condition initially, decided he was truly blessed. He’d never felt so good for so  _ long  _ before, and his appreciation was shown in kiss after kiss after  _ kiss  _ against chilly lips as the high faded.

And of course Jack was making lots of sounds for him, because Jack found it very hard to shut up, sometimes. It was especially hard when he was so God damn  _ happy.  _ He could  _ feel  _ how much Pitch wanted him, and that was still such a wonderful thing even after a couple months of exposure. Three hundred years left a stronger mark and basking in the Boogeyman’s attention was so very soothing to his wounds. Combined with that almost hilarious level of concern and comfort, Jack felt… 

Well, he felt in  _ love. _

And it was wholly reciprocated. Pitch couldn’t read enjoyment like Jack could, but his hearing was extremely acute and each of those little noises told him so much. It didn’t much help his problem of too-soon reignited arousal. 

Pitch didn’t care. Jack was beautiful, Jack was satisfied, Jack was all over  _ him  _ and he had nothing to complain about. One of his hands reached for a smaller one as the kiss began to die down, and when he broke away, not without nipping at Jack’s bottom lip, he brought up the hand to kiss the back of it. 

It was so sweet. It was  _ too  _ sweet. Jack licked his lips and studied the way his hand looked wrapped in Pitch’s fingers. He wasn’t used to thinking of his hands as pretty or anything, but there was something serenely beautiful about their hands together. It was  _ too fucking sweet  _ and Jack was, frankly, overwhelmed, “God, Pitch…”

Pitch made a small inquisitive noise, tangling their fingers together as he slowly lowered their hands back down. He absolutely  _ adored _ the way Jack’s eyes were lit up right now. It brought such an honest smile to his lips. “What is it, Jack?” 

“I love you,” the Guardian blurted. He didn’t know if he could possibly put into words exactly what he was feeling, but, “I love you so much. You’re so sweet. You’re so  _ perfect.  _ I just  _ love  _ you.”

That overwhelming amount of sweet was reflected right back onto him. Stars, he could listen to Jack repeat those words all day, and he’d never get tired of hearing it. Honestly, Pitch didn’t think he’d be able to return the words so easily in his life, but Jack  _ made  _ it easy. There was no reason to close off his volatile heart to this wonderful spirit sharing his bed. “I love you too. I’d do anything for you, Jack.” 

“I know,” the frost spirit murmured, squeezing his boyfriend’s fingers, “I know and I believe you and I’m  _ so grateful,  _ and I just love you, too.”

Jack was adorable when he got all rambly. Pitch leaned in to capture those lips for another handful of delicious seconds, soaking up all the affection the smaller man felt like showering him with. “I honestly don’t know what to  _ do  _ with all the happiness you make me feel,” he admitted with a quiet chuckle, “Are you still tired?”

Jack seemed uncertain and unconcerned, “I don’t think I’m tired. I think I’m just lazy.” But he smiled and held his lover and asked, “Did you want to do something, today? Or are you just too awake to nap?”

“I know that I  _ don’t  _ want to move. I’m quite comfortable here myself, but I can’t say I’m ready to fall asleep,” the Boogeyman explained, falling forward again so he could press his lips to Jack’s neck and shoulder, “I’ll just have to smother you with affection until you demand I make you another drinkable cookie.” 

Jack laughed, utterly delighted, and returned quite a few of those kisses, “I approve of this plan,” but continued to snicker and muttered, “Drinkable cookie,” right after.

Motivated by that laugh, Pitch proceeded to dote, and cuddle, and spoil Jack obnoxiously until they finally hit a point of actually wanting to sleep. The hand jobs, that preceded the blowjob Pitch gave to return the favor, helped deplete a substantial amount of energy. Pitch hadn’t even left the bed. 

But when they awoke some unknown amount of hours later, and greeted each other with a customary kiss that devolved into a heated make-out session, Jack assumed his teenagery ways and demanded something for breakfast. Pitch had a few ideas, but ultimately was led to melt into the shadows and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Fuck, he was whipped. It should have bothered the Nightmare King more than the  _ nothing  _ he felt over the idea.

Jack certainly wasn’t bothered. Jack was splayed naked over the bedding like a French painting on gluttony. 

He insisted on eating, but it was really just to pass the time. Not that he didn’t want the food, because he did, or that he was just giving Pitch tasks to do, but they had  _ eternity  _ together. Jack wanted part of that eternity to be sharing meals and licking frosting from each other’s fingers and hand feeding chocolate covered strawberries and there was no reason why that part couldn’t be three times a day in Pitch’s nest separated by long, languid bouts of sex. 

Although he  _ was  _ kind of abusing Pitch by making him fetch everything even though Jack hadn’t been too sore to move for a couple days now. But Pitch seemed so…  _ pleased  _ when he could bring Jack something he wanted. Presently, the Guardian knew the flip side would also be true. Jack would be thrilled out of his mind if he picked out a gift for Pitch and Pitch called him amazing several times over for his good taste, but they weren’t in a position for Jack to be shopping around. He’d just have to make it up to him later.

Which wasn’t to say that there weren’t gifts Jack could award his boyfriend  _ now…  _ They didn’t have to be material, just selfless, and that made Jack consider giving another blow job as soon as Pitch got back. Or maybe a full-body massage. Starting with his toes.

Thoughts that made it very awkward when the next sound Jack heard wasn’t his boyfriend’s cheerful voice, but a decidedly  _ feminine,  _ “Oh, well, I guess  _ that  _ explains a few things.”

In an  _ instant  _ Jack flipped over, flailed wildly for the blankets, and covered himself from toe to chin,  _ “Tooth?”  _

“Hi, Jack!” Her tone was warm, but her eyes, her whole  _ head,  _ was averted to the side. There was a blush on her cheeks, but she wore it well, unflustered and polite despite the embarrassment, “We just got a little worried about you. Again.”

“Um,” Jack, meanwhile, wore nothing. At all. Much less well. Where the fuck was his hoodie? Mentally searching for the hoodie rapidly degraded his ability to speak, leaving a monosyllabic, “Why?”

“Nobody’s seen you for almost a week, Jack,” Tooth reasoned, glancing over and slowly gathering the confidence to meet his eyes. It was more for Jack’s dignity than her uncertainty, but it was still just so  _ awkward.  _ “Winter is much less wild without you. Everyone’s noticed.”

Jack wondered what it said about his own hyper activity that less than seven days without it made spirits around the world take notice. He also wondered if he could subtly slip into his pants, if he could find them. “I’m touched that you’re worried about me, but you  _ really  _ don’t need to be. I’m  _ fine.  _ And I have been this whole time.”

“Well,” Tooth shrugged a little, looking adorably bashful what with the shining feathers and humming wings, “It certainly looks that way.”

And now Jack could no longer deny the rising heat to his cheeks. Because Tooth was alluding to sex. To Jack having sex. To Jack being  _ fine  _ because he was having sex. Oh God.

“Are you okay, Jack? You’re looking a little blue.”

As if summoned to the call of his potentially unwell lover, Pitch appeared from the shadows seconds later, tall, imposing, and  _ fully dressed.  _

Holding an antique tray with two antique mugs, and a loaded up antique plate. 

Okay so maybe he’d been instantly alerted to a disturbance in the shadows. Maybe he’d lurked through them to get a look at their intruder to judge how much of a threat they were. And maybe he’d made a very purposeful detour to acquire a new pair of pants before he went on to resume making breakfast. 

Because Pitch somehow had a feeling their intruder wouldn’t be leaving right away. Also, he wasn’t about to let  _ anyone,  _ Guardian or otherwise, that close to Jack while he was naked and caught off guard. 

Sadly that meant he couldn’t get as elaborate as he wanted to with breakfast. Having the ingredients for homemade cookies around meant that he had the ingredients for pancakes. It’d probably been  _ decades  _ since he last cooked for anyone, but if he could figure out cookies, he could figure out a damn pancake. With bits of oreo cookies thrown in. Because that seemed like a sure fire way into Jack’s heart. 

The coffee concoction, for variety’s sake, was chocolate chip this time, sitting intimidatingly next to his very plain cup of tea. 

Pitch was holding the tray perfectly balanced in an elegantly splayed hand, while his other was on his hip giving off the impression of a very unamused waiter whose job was being interrupted by a nosy customer. Honestly. Should he be expecting these little drop-ins once a week now? 

“I didn’t realize you’d be joining us for breakfast in bed, Toothiana. Do you prefer tea or coffee?” Pitch greeted dryly. 

Toothiana had temporarily lost all ability to speak when faced with irate-cafe-waiter Pitch Black.

Jack hadn’t, “Oh my God, are those pancakes?!”

Damnit all, it was hard to stay annoyed when he could clearly hear the sheer  _ joy  _ in Jack’s tone. Pitch approached the bed and laid the tray on Jack’s lap. Or where he assumed his lap was under the blankets they never used. Upon realizing his error, he quickly had a shadow beckoned with a knife and fork, antiques of course, and set them next to the plate so his boyfriend could have at it while he dealt with their… guest. 

“No really,” Pitch tried again, arms crossed now that they were free, “To what do we owe the pleasure of this little visit?” 

Now, Toothiana knew after the last visit that Jack firmly believed himself to be safe with Pitch Black. She had not known, however, that being safe involved being waited on, naked, in bed or that he was being served freshly made fluffy meals and… Was there anything  _ but  _ whipped cream in that cup?

Toothiana was momentarily horrified.

“Tell me you’re brushing, Jack.”

He didn’t miss a beat, “Twice a day, Tooth.”

For the first time, she was not going to check his mouth to find out the truth. Ignorance was bliss.

Instead, she turned back to Pitch. Whose teeth weren’t any nicer, but at least she could be sure about that. 

She had to visibly shake herself out of the horrified trance, “No one had heard from Jack for a while. I was just seeking him out to make sure he was alright.”

“Pitch,” Jack’s oddly meek voice piped up from behind him, “Do you know where my hoodie went?”

The Nightmare King had been fixing an awfully cold glare on the Guardian of Memories, but it visibly faded with Jack’s question. He didn’t  _ like  _ the idea of putting the hoodie back on, the Guardians did like to take the boy away from him at any convenient chance they could, but he understood the want to cover up. He raised a hand and another shadow delivered the long forgotten hoodie right next to Jack’s breakfast tray. 

Besides, if Jack was willing to lie about his teeth to the fluttering spirit, surely they’d come up with something to keep them both in bed. Pitch took a seat next to his boyfriend, a subtly possessive gesture with their shoulders touching, and continued to eye Tooth warily. “It’s only been three… four days at most? Although…” the Boogeyman was just rubbing it in now, turning to look at the frost spirit with a knowing smirk, “I suppose I have lost track of time…” 

Jack rolled his eyes but there was a bright smile on his face as he laid back and dragged the hoodie under the blanket with him to slip it on without exposing himself, “You don’t need to be cryptic about it, Sugar. Tooth, I haven’t left the bed in four days. It’s been amazing. I’m sad I don’t have anymore teeth to lose so I can relive these memories anytime I like.” And then he sat up again, leaving the blanket around his waist, and finally tucked into his pancakes properly.

At which point he exclaimed in a mirror of himself, “Oh my God, are those oreo bits?!”

This was surreal for Toothiana. The Guardian of Memories had certainly considered the twisting of her power for such an aim but no one had said it that brazenly or that blatantly to her face before. Leave it to Jack. And then, to be so impressed with oreo bits.

To be fair, Toothiana was pretty impressed with the oreo bits, too. She hadn’t known Pitch could cook. She hadn’t known Pitch  _ would  _ cook for a lover. And Jack was most definitely his lover.

It seemed a horrendous understatement but needed to be said, “I’m glad you’re alright, Jack.”

“Of course he’s alright,” Pitch’s tone an odd combination of haughty, yet affectionate as he looked on at his angel who seemed so  _ happy  _ at what he’d managed to do just trying to use up the ridiculous stash of oreos he’d accumulated in such a short amount of time, “He hasn’t been in any actual danger here since he came to check up on me.” 

Jack had an antique fork in his mouth when he turned to smile at his boyfriend, charmed by the admission. Pitch Black acted like a big bad, but he was really just a melodramatic diva who could hold a grudge. Not that Jack had known that, back then. He had only known that if Pitch turned on him, Jack was stronger. They had come so far from that. 

The Guardian of Fun didn’t hesitate to pick up Pitch’s arm and wrap it around his shoulders before he sampled his new coffee creation. ...Oh Fuck, it was chocolaty.

Toothiana found it hard to argue with Pitch’s words when Jack was so obviously…  _ cared for  _ here. And it wasn’t as if she really  _ wanted  _ to argue, she just hadn’t understood. Pitch had tried to  _ kill him  _ last year and now they were snuggling in a giant nest of cushions. It was reasonably difficult to comprehend. Undeniable when it was right in front of her, though. Jack was not in danger. 

Jack was, in fact,  _ happy.  _

But Pitch was also misunderstanding  _ her _ .

“I wasn’t  _ expecting  _ you to have hurt him, Pitch. Any number of things could have happened. Are you saying we shouldn’t go looking for him when he mysteriously vanishes off the face of the Earth? Should we just assume he’s fine and let it stretch to weeks? Months? At what point should we begin to worry that Jack might be all alone and hurt somewhere, just waiting to be found? This wasn’t about  _ you,  _ Pitch. This was about  _ Jack.”  _

Jack would have rebutted that, if not for Antarctica.

He silently kissed Pitch on the shoulder and took another sip, instead.

“Is that some kind of tall joke?” Pitch asked, sudden and dark, a bitterness creeping in that was not only on his behalf, and that little kiss, instead of soothing the building vengeful feelings away, only bolstered them, “You,  _ all of you,  _ had some three hundred years to show that kind of consideration to him. I certainly don’t remember any  _ weekly  _ check ups in the months  _ before  _ you all found out who he’d been spending his time with. How can you say this  _ isn’t  _ about me?”

Toothiana rolled her eyes. Way to stack a deck. “We hadn’t  _ personally  _ seen Jack, but we  _ had  _ seen his effect on winter. As long as kids are enjoying snow days, we know Jack’s alright. This time, there’s been no snow days, no sign of Jack at all. Not even odd cross winds. But no, it didn't  _ have  _ to be your doing, Pitch. After all-”

The Guardian of Memories stopped short, suddenly realizing what she was about to say, that it might hurt, and stared wide-eyed at Jack in silence. Then her expression resolved, having made the choice to say it anyway, and she smiled apologetically to ease as much of the sting as she could, “And honestly, none of us were that sure Jack would hang around in one place that long, anyway.”

Jack winced. It wasn’t really possible to ease that kind of sting. Especially when it was such a deep wound for him. Just another spin on the, ‘Jack is unreliable,’ song. He didn’t want to blame them, but he could feel the anger inside him. It was going to take another three hundred years before they changed their minds about him, wasn’t it? 

At least they were checking on him, now. When before they would have ignored him as best they could and just hoped he didn’t fuck up  _ their  _ plans. But it was a small victory. Even if it did make a reasonable argument for why Pitch shouldn’t be personally offended, here. 

Except Pitch was likely to be personally offended at a slight to Jack, anyway.

Fuck.

The presence of a Guardian that  _ wasn’t  _ Jack was enough to personally offend Pitch. 

His glare grew sharper before he turned and muttered to his lover with heavy sarcasm, “Why you ever chose  _ them  _ over me, I will never understand.” He knew very well how much it hurt for Jack to be reminded that everyone thought he wasn’t dependable,  _ believable,  _ only a rogue trickster out to laugh at other people’s expense. Maybe Toothiana’s random concern was a step in a better direction, because they were definitely giving Jack  _ way  _ more of a chance than they ever gave  _ him,  _ but it also only served to prove their superficial understanding of their new team member. 

Pitch was reminded of all those long suppressed feelings and desires he had of crushing the Guardians once and for all. 

Jack set his coffee on the tray and leaned right back into Pitch, “Babe, I chose the  _ children  _ over you and to be fair, you were being a total dickwad at the time.”

Toothiana didn’t want to be around when that argument escalated, so she interrupted before it could,  _ “But  _ I can see that you are fine, Jack. You’re just distracted,  _ understandably,  _ and there’s nothing wrong with taking a little break here and there. Not that I know what that’s like or anything,” she joked with a smile, hoping for a spark of camaraderie from the Guardian of Fun, “So I’ll just see myself out and let the others know that you’re okay.”

Jack honestly felt a little bad for how glad he was that she wouldn’t be staying much longer. She was great when they all hung out, but in situations like this?... There was a lot left to be desired. At the same time, he didn’t really want to think about how this would have gone if North or Bunny had been the one to stop by. He had no idea what Sandy would have done. Tooth really wasn’t as bad as it could be. “Yeah, alright. Thanks, Tooth. See you around?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled a little brighter. It was hard to keep the Guardian of Memories down. “The next time we all get together, of course.”

Pitch felt his irrational anger escalating, enough that his arm had slipped off of Jack’s shoulders and he didn’t bother replacing it. They were talking like he wasn’t there, like his presence made no difference, only  _ Jack’s,  _ and it was  _ his  _ home the fairy had barged into. 

Not only his home,  _ his  _ private moment with Jack,  _ his  _ romantic breakfast,  _ his  _ morning after, but of course no thought was given to such things when the convenient norm the other Guardians were used to was being tampered with.

“I don’t think I’m going to tolerate these unannounced visits for much longer. Consider yourself warned, and feel free to pass it along to your friends.”

Toothiana might have accepted that he had Jack's best interests in mind, if not other things, but she was not amused by blatant threats. Or subtle threats for that matter. "Then how shall we knock?"

“Please,” Pitch scoffed, “Even if I installed a little doorbell above ground,  _ none  _ of you would bother to  _ use it.  _ You all assume the worst already, so I’m going to assume that if you come here and interrupt  _ my  _ time with Jack, you’re looking for a confrontation. And you’ll have it.” 

Toothiana glared.  _ That  _ was monumentally stupid, and Pitch deserved to know it. “If you don’t even give us the option, then you can’t be upset when we don’t use it. I’m not here to fight, Pitch, but if that’s what you want, you’ll lose.”

Jack leaned over just the slightest bit and nudged Pitch with his shoulder to get his attention. Fighting with Tooth was pointless, even if they were both making good points. “They do need a way to contact me, Pitch. Barging in is  _ rude,”  _ he gave Toothiana a pointed look so she knew she wasn’t off the hook, but met his boyfriend’s gaze again quickly, “and my time with you is special, but what if something happens? I’m part of their team. They have to be allowed to come calling.”

The Nightmare King was wearing a nasty scowl worthy of his title, the slightest amount of sharp teeth bared. Shadows seemed to stir around the stone walls with his growing temper, and the already dim light of the lair,  _ his fucking lair,  _ flickered. He would have loved to throw the annoying witch of a fairy into one of the many hanging cages and let her rot if that wouldn’t have meant she’d still  _ be  _ here. And Jack was defending her. Defending  _ all  _ of the Guardians. The same Guardians that ignored him for so long that he  _ became  _ the kind of spirit that Pitch could relate to. An  _ outcast.  _

Meanwhile, he’d only wanted to share breakfast with his boyfriend in peace. In  _ his home.  _ But now he needed to make special considerations towards the very spirits he’d more or less been at  _ war with  _ since they were created? 

“Then enter at your own risk,” the Boogeyman snarled. 

At the look on Pitch’s face, Jack had set the tray aside to pull the blankets more securely around him so he could turn and curl his body into Pitch’s side. He didn’t like that his boyfriend was so upset, and he liked even less that he had good reason to be. Fuck everything. 

“You might try announcing yourself at the door next time, Tooth,” Jack mildly suggested with a hard look in his eyes. His arms wormed their way around to cling at one of Pitch’s, “you know, now that you  _ know  _ Pitch isn’t hurting me and there’s no benefit to the element of surprise.”

Even chastised, Toothiana held her head up and refused to show regret. Maybe apology, but never regret. Pitch was an enemy, and from the way he was acting now, was  _ still  _ an enemy, if not to Jack. But for her fellow Guardian’s sake, she could compromise. With a nod, she agreed, “I will try that. Take care, Jack. And don’t forget to floss!” Then she turned and was gone from the lair with her dignity intact, she thought.

Jack found it hard to be angry with her when he knew she acted out of a very deep caring for him. He also found it hard to be angry at Pitch when he knew how deeply hurt he was. Life was easier when everything was black or white, but Jack had never done anything but walk the line.

He dropped a chaste kiss on Pitch’s neck just below his ear. He felt like he should apologize, but then he wasn’t sure what for.

Only when Toothiana was completely out of his sight and shadows did Pitch feel like he could relax, and even then, it was marginal. He wasn’t sure if Jack at his side was more of comfort or… 

Well no. There was no other option. Jack was still there, with him, holding on to him, and if he  _ hadn’t  _ been, the shade was sure he would have stormed off somewhere, enraged. Jack’s presence was just  _ barely  _ keeping him under control. 

With the arm that wasn’t being held captive, he brought a hand to his face, running fingers through his hair with a frustrated sigh. This was not the morning he’d been hoping for. 

“You’re coffee’s getting cold,” he ended up muttering, not having the words to express all the emotions stirring in him, and not sure he wanted to share it with his Snow Angel either. 

Jack’s initial thought was that Pitch could just make him another, but even before it fully formed, he knew that was a bratty thought and Pitch probably could use without his brattiness right now. Instead he went for something no less greedy and no less honest, but certainly less wasteful, and admitted, “I don’t want to let go of you yet.”

That admission went straight to the heart and Pitch turned to run his long fingers through Jack’s hair this time. The Guardian did love him, and selfish or not, the clingy display did ease some of the bitter hurt. “I’m not going anywhere, Jack.”

The frost spirit closed his eyes to properly feel those fingers. His voice was quiet, subdued, and just the tiniest bit shaky, “I know; it’s not that. You’re upset, and I can’t make it better. I can’t take sides. I can’t make the Guardians trust you and I can’t make you forgive the Guardians. I can’t even pretend to think you  _ should.  _ I can’t make you stop hurting. So I just don’t want to let go, yet.”

Pitch stared down at his lover for long seconds, amazed at the eternal teenager’s mature insight despite his somewhat fragile state. Of course it hurt that Jack couldn’t completely take his side, but it was Pitch’s side he _volunteered_ to be stuck to as much as he possibly could when he didn’t have to consider his duties. He shifted his arm a bit like he was gently trying to wriggle free, “Come here so I can hold you properly.”

There was nothing else in the world that could have made Jack willingly let go of Pitch’s arm. His grip loosened, and with his arms no longer tangled in something, the first thing he did was slip that hoodie back off of his head. And then, with no regard for where the blanket ended up, Jack threw one leg over Pitch’s lap and settled down into it, leaning against his lover’s chest, “I want to say sorry but I honestly don’t know what else I could do.”

Pitch was pleasantly surprised by the little striptease, but even more so by the boy crawling in his lap. He let his robe disappear to make them even when he wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders and pulled him in suffocatingly close, chest against chest, skin against skin. Normally a run-in with the Guardians meant sulking back into his shadows, all alone full of hatred and vengeance. But now he had the most wonderful spirit to ever be created here in his bed to comfort him,  _ love  _ him, and it amplified his own feelings to a nearly overwhelming point. “You don’t need to apologize,” Pitch assured quietly with a kiss or three to Jack’s face and forehead, “ _ I’m  _ sorry that if you stay with me, you’ll always be torn like this.”

“Not  _ always,”  _ Jack couldn’t help but be optimistic, even as he cuddled closer and wrapped his arms around Pitch’s waist seeking comfort, “They can’t be dipshits  _ forever,  _ can they? And you won’t…”

Jack wasn’t sure how to end that sentence. Won’t hate the Guardians forever? Won’t endanger children ever again? Jack didn’t think there  _ was  _ an end to that sentence. At least, none that was true. 

Pitch had never been one for optimism, but affection he could do, and he was stroking Jack’s hair again, “This has been going on for so many centuries, Jack. They were  _ created  _ to oppose me. I suppose you should feel lucky they decided to give _ you  _ another chance.” 

With a sigh, Jack gave up on feeling anything good about this. So he grabbed his coffee and went back to sipping. Incidentally, as cold as the coffee got, it was still warm to  _ him.  _ “Thanks for not being a total dick, Babe. I know that was hard for you and she said some things that weren’t totally great, but you didn’t make that any harder on me than it had to be. So thanks.”

Pitch shook his head before he hooked his chin over his lover’s and simply held him, “Thank  _ you _ . For staying here and being you. I’m still angry, and I am contemplating a spike trap near the entrance, but having you here helps me forget anything’s wrong at all.” 

“A spike trap wouldn’t work on Toothiana; she flies.”

“She’d get the cage trap.”

Jack was quiet for several seconds.

“Can’t we just hit them with a laser-trigger spring-loaded snowball trebuchet?”

“I would be in favor of that if it wouldn’t degrade into them having  _ fun. _ Your snowballs are too potent.” 

“That’s only if I blow on it,” a statement Jack made with a straight face until he realized what he said and devolved into juvenile giggles.

Which earned a little chuckle out of Pitch. Jack was adorable. Whoever thought he needed to change a thing could go fuck themselves. Idly, he began tracing the outer shell of his boyfriend’s ear with a single finger, “Then maybe we need to pay a visit to Lelouch and see if he can procure us some high-tech laser triggers.” 

Jack already felt so much better and the adoring way he looked up at Pitch said everything for him. He raised his coffee back to his lips and said, “But first, your tea’s getting cold,” before taking another sip.

The tea that Pitch had all but forgotten about. It was hardly tempting when he had Jack in his lap, those icy eyes glittering with affection that had the Boogeyman rooted to the spot. “How’s the coffee? Sweet enough?” 

“It’s wonderful; I love it,” Jack said immediately. No point in holding back. “And I love the pancakes, too. But I think I’m going to wait until I’m out of your lap to eat the rest of those.”

“Nonsense,” Pitch refuted, using the shadows to bring the tray close without having to dislodge their position. He only moved to reach for the fork and cut off a little piece of pancake that he held before Jack’s lips, “Unless you actually don’t want them now because they’re cold. I can make a fresh batch.” 

“Pumpkin,” Jack said with an indulgent tone and smile, “I’m colder. The pancakes are  _ hot  _ compared to me.” And then he took that bite and hummed happily to emphasize his pleasure.

“Alright fine,” Pitch accepted that reality, and the happier reality that he was going to feed Jack his breakfast. He was already preparing another forkful while Jack was enjoying the first one, but waited patiently for him to finish. And then out of nowhere, he had to ask, “Did she see you naked?” 

Jack grimaced, but met Pitch’s eyes, “I don’t think she stared or anything, but she definitely knew I was naked before I knew she was there.”

Pitch… couldn’t help the displeased little growling noise or the way his hand tightened around Jack’s waist. “Definitely building a damn trebuchet…” 

“I will be happy to assist you,” Jack nodded, then held his mouth open for more pancake.

Reminded of what he was actually supposed to be enjoying, Pitch dutifully raised the fork to that ready mouth he kind of wanted to ravish. Jack would taste so sweet right now… “If you can figure out the lasers. You’re more technologically inclined than I.” 

Jack chewed just enough, then talked with his mouth full because fuck it, “They make things like that really easy, nowadays. We just have to follow the directions. Which I guess is where most people go wrong.”

“I highly doubt that there is an exact system already set up that would trigger a trebuchet,” Pitch reasoned, moving back over to the tray and looping one of his fingers through the handle of his tea cup, “There’s going to be a little engineering involved, if you think you can handle it.”

Jack shrugged, “The trebuchet itself isn’t electronic, though. It just needs to be released. I think between Lelouch and I, we’ve got this. And I desperately hope it’s Bunny who sets it off.”

Pitch chuckled darkly around the rim of the teacup, “That would be delicious, although I have a bit of a vendetta against the fairy right now. Maybe she won’t sleep so well the next time she rests…” 

Jack didn’t exactly like the idea of Tooth having terrible nightmares, but that wasn’t exactly lethal and she  _ had  _ legitimately pissed him off, so the Guardian couldn’t find a good reason to talk him down. Other than, ‘She’s my friend; don’t be a dick,’ which held very little water. “It is  _ always  _ funny when Bunny faceplants from a snowball, though.”

“Think he’ll bite if we invite him over to help us test our new security system?” Pitch asked innocently with a contradictory smirk, “I mean, they are concerned for your  _ safety  _ right?” 

“I am not going to  _ lure…”  _ Jack trailed off, stopping his own words before he lied.  _ Of course  _ he would lure Bunny into a trap. He would totally lure Bunny into a giant snowball trap. It would be amazing. “We can try it.”

Pitch laughed and immediately set his teacup down so he could steal Jack’s lips in a hurried kiss. And stars, was he  _ ever _ sweet. He hummed, pleased, when he gradually pulled away. “You’re wonderful, darling.”

“So’re you, Sugar,” the frost spirit smiled.   
  


* * *

 

It took a good half day more of lazing in bed before another step was taken towards their new furniture project. Jack had finally reached a point of restlessness where he wanted out of the nest, and Pitch obliged on demand. The sooner the ‘alarm system’ was put in place, the better anyway. Pitch really  _ did not need  _ another lecture from his enemies about corrupting the innocent youth of a teenage spirit.    


The lair had all the old metal they could possibly need for hardware, including a perfect bowl to hold snowballs, but after the roulette wheel, the shadowman was running low on lumber. 

And how convenient was it that their go-to technology person was in a relationship with  _ the  _ guy to get lumber from? They were making a get-together out of it. Jack was on the phone making arrangements while Pitch and his shadows got to work cleaning. It wouldn’t do to have company over with the evidence of  _ sex  _ everywhere. 

Not that the Boogeyman was at all ashamed, and may have been caught staring once or twice at Jack’s ass just to see how well he was walking. 

He was walking fine. His ass was sore, sure, an odd burning/prickling sensation that was thoroughly new to Jack’s life, but it only took a little practice to get used to it. Pitch was gentle with him, all things considered. It could have been much worse.

Instead, he was excited. He was eager to see his friends again, eager to set up such an epic prank, eager to build something with Pitch again. Christmas Eve had been such a rush and he hoped this would be, too. He knew they couldn’t do things like this  _ all  _ the time, but that just made him savor what they were setting up now all the more. 

It took a couple hours for Lelouch to gather supplies and Suzaku to run, literally run, to the lair, but Jack didn’t mind one last chance at alone time before they had to be good hosts to their friends. He was surprised, in fact, that it only took a couple hours. Paul Bunyan was a fast motherfucker when he wanted to be. 

And somehow the incredible asshole had carried whole fucking  _ trees  _ with him, if the way he arrived was any indication. Surely he had not run across America with those. Jack did not ask for fear of the answer. He merely went to work on the laser, instead.

They’d broken into appropriate pairs for their tasks, Pitch and Suzaku going  _ completely  _ old school with their hand tools on the tree logs, while Lelouch was reading over the directions of the state-of-the-art motion sensor that had so  _ fortunately  _ fallen into his hands.

If he made the humans happy, he could play with their toys. Lelouch saw no moral problem. He tailed behind Jack as the Guardian of Fun was scouting a perfect position for the laser just below the entrance. 

“I can’t help but notice,” the Blue Fairy started with a smirk, peering over the little paper pamphlet in his hands, “Your wants are a lot less  _ gray  _ at the moment…” 

“Do I even have any wants left?” Jack asked with faux disbelief, unashamed. It really wasn’t the kind of thing he could hide from the Blue Fairy, and he could stand here embarrassed or he could own it. Jack was always the type to own it, whether the bravado was false or not. “I’m pretty sure I have everything I’ve ever wanted right now.”

“Besides a snowball-flinging trebuchet, of course.” Jack never failed to give Lelouch the most  _ interesting  _ challenges since he’d met him, “Other than that, Pitch is wishing to make you proud with what he’s building, and Suzaku wants me to stop stealing things. I’m not used to it being so  _ quiet. _ ” 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. Oh, Suzaku. He had to know that one was in vain. 

Pitch, though… That was just endearing. “You know he wanted it to be a spike trap? I was… I thought he might be disappointed that a snowball isn’t lethal.”

Lelouch was ninety-nine percent sure he was going to be leaving the lair with a toothache by the time this was all done. Jack and Pitch were hilariously ridiculous about each other, and he wondered if anyone had ever thought the same about himself and Suzaku. “I’m pretty sure he’s a lot more interested in making you happy than killing things dead.”

The Guardian of Fun let out a relieved laugh at that. He thought so, but hearing it confirmed by the spirit who would  _ know  _ lifted an unknown weight from his heart. “Good. Just as planned,” Jack affirmed with a confident nod, unwrapping and lining up the parts he thought they would need first, leaving the tiny screws and delicate pieces still in their packaging for safe keeping, “Now, should we assume everyone enters the lair at a similar pace to me, or do you think most spirits travel slower?”

It took them a couple hours to get it rigged up properly. Rather, they’d had the laser working and temporarily mounted in a half hour, and the rest of the time was spent playing with the many  _ options _ that could be programmed into it. They’d practically had their own little laser show before Lelouch remembered that they were going to need to actually re-route and solder wires somehow to the machine that Pitch and Suzaku were no where near finished with. 

It was while Lelouch was writing down notes and trying to come up with a diagram for the electrical work that a sudden shadow was cast over the two of them. The Blue Fairy had a scant ten seconds to shield his work from being trampled before he nearly had a faceful of familiar white feathers. “Damnit Seifer, this is a no fly zone right now!”

“So lucky I haven’t made the snowball, yet!” Jack cried from somewhere to his left.

Seifer, for his part, was utterly confused. Usually zipping down the hole was no problem at all. “What are you guys  _ doing  _ here?”

Seifer wasn’t exactly empty handed either. Held suggestively in his arms was none other than the sea witch that had shown the two spirits his own brand of hospitality, and upon recognizing that, Squall’s posture immediately tensed. 

Lelouch was a lot more concerned with the present than the past, though. “Installing a security system. Are you volunteering to be our test subjects?”

“I’m going with, ‘No.’”

Jack really wished summoning protective ice wouldn’t just short out all the electronics when it melted, “Then you should definitely back away from the trigger. Are you here to see Pitch? He’s down in the lair building a trebuchet with Suzaku.”

The confusion had yet to leave Cupid, “Seriously?”

“Deadly,” Lelouch confirmed with a smirk, “A shame isn’t it? This used to be such a nice neighborhood…” 

...Was this what immortals did when they had all the time in the world on their hands? Squall was just as confused as Cupid.

Jack laughed. Lelouch was the master of playing shit up. If only Pitch had been here to follow it. Jack wasn’t nearly as good. Instead, he shook his head and explained, “The Guardians keep busting in and interrupting us, accusing Pitch of this or that. So we’re setting up non-lethal automatic retaliation. If we have to suffer a lecture, watching them get nailed by a giant snowball is the least we can get in return.”

Seifer was torn between agreeing and wondering if the coming together of Jack Frost and Pitch Black might be the most worrisome thing to ever happen to this world. “So I was actually here to find  _ you,”  _ Seifer changed the subject swiftly. They weren’t going to understand any better than that, after all, “I was going to ask your assistance with another couple, but I see you have more interesting things to be doing than aiding  _ me.”  _

“I don’t know, Seifer,” Lelouch cut in, slowly easing away from where he was hunched over his precious materials, “Looks like you have plenty of aid to me. Nice to see you, Squall.” 

One of those fishy ears twitched in annoyance, like it was  _ rude  _ for Lelouch to have noticed him, but otherwise Squall was as cold as ever, “I’m not helping.”

“Not even moral support,” Seifer agreed.

“It’s good you came now anyway,” Jack said, returning to their flighty point, “Any sooner and I wouldn’t have been willing to leave the bed. Once this is built though, I might be willing to spare a few hours. Need another snowball fight?”

“Sledding, this time,” Seifer answered distractedly. Wouldn’t leave the bed, huh? “Guess your  _ problem  _ is handled, then?”

“Sure,  _ his  _ problem is taken care of,” Lelouch complained theatrically, “But  _ I  _ still can’t quite look the Boogeyman in the eyes.”

“You haven’t even  _ seen _ him since we talked about it!” Jack cried, turning one-eighty on the Blue Fairy, “And don’t act like you weren’t offering me gray dildos a week ago!”

“Of course I offered! It’s my  _ job  _ to offer, so if you were craving a thick, gray cock, what  _ else  _ was I supposed to do?!” Lelouch argued right back. 

“Wow, this conversation,” Seifer added helpfully.

“Don’t pretend to be a prude, Lelouch,” Jack rolled his eyes, a faint blue tint rising on his cheeks, but he refused to be embarrassed. Again. “We all know you’re a kinky motherfucker, and we don’t even have to read wishes to tell that.”

Lelouch didn’t looked ashamed. The  _ real  _ surprise was that Suzaku was just as kinky, but no one would ever assume it by looking at him. “Give it enough time with Pitch Black and I won’t be the  _ only  _ kinky motherfucker. I seem to remember you perking up at the idea of handcuffs…” 

“Handcuffs are hardly kinky,” Jack wasn’t sure what they were arguing anymore, but he was going to argue it to the end, “Talk to me again when I’ve gotten a ball gag in Pitch’s mouth and beads up my ass. Until then,  _ good day, _ sir!” He even gave a flippant little salute to end it.

“We’re going to go talk to Thriller,” Seifer declared suddenly, flying past the arguing spirits. If he was lucky, Squall may not have sworn off ever seeing those two again already.

Squall’s hearing unfortunately was unable to miss the Blue Fairy’s comeback, something about a cock ring?, and fixed the blond with a very flat look as he zoomed through the dark maze of wherever the fuck they were. “...Your friends are weird.” 

“I wish I could say it was just them,” Seifer sighed, landing where the tunnel opened up into a much wider room and, sure enough, Pitch and Suzaku were several yards away assembling logs into an instrument of war. 

Or security, apparently.

He set Squall on his feet and gestured to the two of them, “May I introduce Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, and Suzaku Kururugi, popularly known as Paul Bunyan.”

It wasn’t hard to determine who was who. Squall stared with a rare curiosity as the male with the slicked back hair dropped the tool in his hand to approach them. Suddenly all the gray comments from before made sense. It was kind of like… 

Like a shark. Smooth gray skin and the dramatic arc of his nose… 

“I don’t remember ordering any matchmaking service,” Pitch greeted with a teasing grin, and  _ fuck,  _ those seemingly pointed teeth set it in stone, for Squall. This man was a shark personified. 

And Squall could handle sharks. 

“Maybe you should’ve,” Suzaku teased, wiping his hands on his jeans as he stepped up behind the Boogeyman, “Woulda put us all out of our misery sooner. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Squall,” the lumberjack held a hand out to shake.

Squall blinked out of his minor daze and stopped thinking about what this Nightmare man would look like if he had eyes to match his name to regard the other brunette. 

…

Remembering the last time with Jack, the sea witch figured he might as well just get it over with and shook the surprisingly human-looking spirit’s hand once. He’d never been good with all the formality shit. 

Pitch couldn’t let the insult lie and, instead of being  _ his  _ usual gracious-host-self, turned to Suzaku expectantly, “And just what sort of  _ misery  _ did my lack of matchmaking put you in?”

Suzaku raised an eyebrow at the Boogeyman, “There was at least a month in there where I got to watch Jack crawl all over you spouting excuses about building snowmen and making snow angels and I had to be the polite, non-interfering friend that I am and keep my mouth shut about how you really just wanted each other’s cocks.” Without missing a beat, Suzaku turned and met Squall’s gaze, “Congratulations on missing out on all of that.”

Seifer cleared his throat with a quiet cough and shrugged one shoulder, “Can’t say I never tried to help set you two up. You  _ were  _ pretty dense about it, Thriller.”

Pitch threw his hands up in the air and turned away from the spirits he considered  _ friends _ . Or something. “I am going to feel so much better once this security system is set up!” 

But then it  _ did  _ hit him that there was a new guest, and the Boogeyman whirled back around, snatching Squall’s hand up just before it fell back to his side, “Hello Squall, it is nice to finally meet you. I welcome you to ignore everything you just heard since I don’t think there’s a single spirit in my lair who knows anything about integrity or common decency.” 

Squall tilted his head at the shark man, a strange sort of shiver running through his skin from where they touched, and it wasn’t because of the cold. It almost made him uneasy. Almost. “Whatever. We walked into a conversation on sex toys, so…” 

“Oh bloody hell…” 

“You’re the idiot who’s in love with him,” Seifer dismissed airily, stepping around all of them to get closer to the wood construct, “Man, I haven’t seen one of these in forever. I know there’s annual contests and things, but I never seem to make it out for them…”

Pitch gently let go of Squall’s hand and looked over his shoulder at the cherub, “Feel like getting those pristine wings dirty? Or did you simply come over to mock me in front of your lover?” 

...Squall didn’t think that was an appropriate title either, but it was better than throwing fiance around. He let it slide, but his arms were now crossed defensively. 

Seifer stretched his arms in anticipation, since he didn’t have any sleeves to roll up like Paul Bunyan, “Absolutely. To both.”

Suzaku sighed, immediately getting back to work unlike the prim Nightmare King, who chose to loiter. “If Lulu and Jack have time to argue about sex toys, does that mean they’re done with the sensor?”

“I think you’re underestimating…. “ Pitch paused purposefully as he walked over to gather up the hammer and nails again, “Lelouch’s multitasking abilities.” 

Squall did not like where this was going and narrowed his eyes at Seifer who looked like he was getting ready to play, “What about your couple?”

“They’ll still be there when we’re done,” Seifer grinned over his shoulder at Squall, “Wanna help?”

The undine did not look amused. He’d agreed to go along and watch Seifer work as a change of pace from lazing around the ocean. He  _ hadn’t  _ agreed to getting roped into a scheme plotted by a bunch of immortals obsessed with sex. “With? My specialty is  _ de _ struction.” 

Seifer didn’t appear bothered by the rejection, “The offer stands if you change your mind.”

He didn’t change his mind.

Seifer figured it might have had to do with the age difference. Squall hadn’t been around long enough for the term, ‘monotony,’ to apply to his life, yet. Seifer, on the other hand, almost never got to really  _ build  _ things, and even if he usually didn’t find that pleasurable, he did now because it was  _ different.  _

Then again, maybe Squall just really hated construction.

He didn’t hate horses, evident by the way he investigated the Nightmares that came out of the woodwork of Pitch’s lair. Seifer relaxed after that. He wanted to get Squall off the island, he wanted Squall to meet his friends and get used to them, but he didn’t want Squall to be bored and miserable while he did it. 

The hours passed quickly with a clear purpose in Seifer’s mind, even faster when Jack Frost and the Blue Fairy emerged from the tunnel with wires and switches in hand. There was a brief argument over how the switch would release the trebuchet, mostly born of Suzaku and Pitch just not understanding how electronics work, but it was settled when Merryweather reminded them who was whipped by who. 

Seifer wasn’t sure which genius was behind the idea that Jack could pack the giant snowball into the thing all by himself, but he quickly subverted that time-consuming disaster by picking up some snow and helping. Then it became a competition. Then it was done because five grown men competing over a single task tended to do that. 

And then it was gone because Goku chose that moment of triumph to emerge from the tunnel whereupon he was thrown back into it and buried under several pounds of snow. Seifer hid his face in his hands and groaned at having to build a giant snowball all over again, but Jack…

_ Jack  _ cried out with joy, eyes alight with cheerful abandon as he sped across the cavern to the prone monkey where he pointedly did not help Goku escape from the icy mound, instead shouting into the echoing hall,  _ “That was FUCKING EPIC!”  _

Sanzo, where he was standing at the tunnel’s entrance in the wake of a  _ random massive snowball,  _ wasn’t quite so charmed. Feeling mildly obligated, he stormed after the frost spirit and the last direction he’d seen the monkey flung. Had Goku seriously dragged him down here for a fucking snowball fight, or what the  _ hell  _ was going on? “What the fuck was  _ that _ , Frost?!” 

"State of the art security!" Jack happily crowed.

Pitch was next to express his feeling about the situation when he rushed forward to see what happened to his newest guest… 

And promptly laughed and threw his arms around Jack’s waist, lifting and twirling him around excitedly, “Gods, did you  _ see  _ that, it’s fucking  _ perfect! _ ” 

Lelouch was immediately looking at the trigger to make sure it actually worked and wasn’t a fluke, but he  _ did  _ have to admit, that had been pretty spectacular. “Welcome, Sanzo,” he spoke up for their host who was currently occupied, “Mind waiting for us to reset it so that we can test for  _ sure  _ that it works?” 

“Not unless you want a fucking hole between your eyes,” the priest growled, looking over the mound of snow Goku was apparently buried under, “Oi, monkey! Are you stuck?”

Goku was too dazed to know. Also breathing was a problem. He made some noise, just to let everyone know he wasn't dead, and began to struggle out from under the snow, but overall...

A plus security system. Goku approved. It definitely worked.

Suzaku was the first to take pity, surprising no one. He came over at a far more sedate pace than the Guardian or the shade, but once there, instead of celebrating Goku's misfortune, the spirit leaned over and began digging him out.

Sanzo was far more irate about it. He dug until he found one of Goku’s hands and started trying to yank him out, “For the record, this is the last time we’re listening to  _ your  _ instincts.” 

The combined efforts succeeded in freeing Goku’s mouth, which may or may not have been a good thing since the first sound out of him was a whine, “But  _ Sanzo, _ look! My instincts were right! Everyone’s here!”

“If the only reason we’re here is to get fucking flattened by snowballs, we’re leaving. We had enough of that in the mountains,” Sanzo argued, tugging a little harder. 

With a little kicking, Goku finally made it out of the snow and immediately latched around Sanzo’s middle, “It was just  _ one  _ snowball, Sanzo. But if we don’t want it to be two, we should probably get out of the thing’s flight path.”

“So you knew we’d all be here?” Seifer asked, even as he, hoping to save some time, began rebuilding the snowball from the last one’s remnants all over the tunnel’s floor.

“Not really,” the monkey king shrugged, “I just had a feeling that I wanted to be here. So we came.”

Jack could not stop grinning, “Your timing was  _ spectacular.”  _

Sanzo was immediately shuffling away from the evidence of the snowy attack since the efforts of Seifer, Suzaku, and Lelouch told him that a re-launch was happening for certain. “What the fuck is this for anyway? I thought you had fucking attack horses?” 

Pitch still hadn’t let go of Jack, still  _ way  _ too thrilled at another example of what they could do with their combined talents. 

...He really should start playing host, though. There was a  _ lot  _ of company in the lair now. “It eliminates the possibility of an ambush, and lately there’s been an ambush too many in my home. As the most likely people to visit the lair, I’m glad you’re all here to see first hand what will happen should you feel the need to stop by unannounced.” 

“Or at least figure out not to barrel down the tunnel,” Jack shrugged, unconcerned. It’s not like these were the people harassing Pitch.

“I dunno, that was kind of fun,” Goku said with a tilt of his head, leaning around Sanzo to get a better look at the machine that attacked him, “I might do it again on purpose. Is that a catapult?!”

… Sanzo needed a damn cigarette. If Goku wanted to get pelted in the face with giant snowballs, that was his choice. As long as the snowballs weren’t in  _ his  _ face. 

“Trebuchet,” Lelouch smirked at the curious monkey, “Pitch and Suzaku built it, and Jack and I installed the laser trigger. We would certainly appreciate a volunteer if you enjoyed it that much.” 

“Well, I mean, it would have sucked if I wasn’t nearly indestructible, but I am, so…”

“I want my glory,” Seifer interjected, “I helped build the fucker, too.”

Suzaku sighed. Just sighed.

“It’s not supposed to be  _ fun,”  _ Jack complained from where he was  _ still  _ wrapped around Pitch’s torso, “It’s supposed to discourage the Guardians from dropping in and blaming Pitch for things he didn’t do.”

“To be fair,” the Shadowman responded, decidedly  _ not  _ letting go of Jack either, “I don’t think the Guardians have as much of a sense of humor as Goku. However, we could always pack the snow with shadow spiders.”

“ _ No.  _ No spiders. If spiders are involved, I’m done,” the Blue Fairy insisted.

“We’re  _ all  _ done if Jack’s not going to help rebuild this,” Seifer griped, “The snow’s melting, but if he doesn’t care, I don’t either. We built a working, giant trebuchet. I can definitely be done now.”

Squall would have been all for being done now were he not completely engrossed with the Nightmares. Having no fear meant he had no problem petting them, and they were apparently as addicted to petting as Seifer and Shiva were. 

Pitch was oblivious to the wavering loyalty of his army when he had Jack in his arms, however. “Well? Shall we test it again or are you satisfied, Darling?” 

Jack shrugged one shoulder, “I think Goku was a perfect test. Bunny and North are about as fast as him, right?” But the Guardian didn’t have to leave Pitch’s hold to help as Cupid demanded. It hardly took a thought to cool the air around them and summon more snow. Seifer didn’t honestly expect him to pack it, this time, right?  _ Right? _

Seifer was just glad to have fresh snow and Suzaku to carry it, because giant snowballs were  _ heavy.  _

Which reminded him.

“Where’d you get all those hilariously tacky statues from, anyway?”

“Around,” Pitch answered vaguely, “I have a tendency to collect things that please me, and when bronze casting was the latest in home decor…” 

“....You assholes really need something better to do with your time,” came the opinion of Sanzo, already halfway through a cigarette. 

Suzaku briefly glanced up at the blond, “We usually have sex.”

Jack, meanwhile, was looking at Pitch strangely, clearly afraid to ask but going to do it anyway, “...When was the last time bronze casting was in?”

Pitch just barely managed to keep the pleasant look on his face, “Don’t ruin the moment, dear.”

“What I’m getting from this,” Seifer calmly gathered, “is that those statues are worth a lot of money to the right museum and you’re using them as a counter weight on a trebuchet you built out of spite and funsies.”

“I don’t see a problem here,” Lelouch supplied, admiring their homemade machine. 

“You know the lair, Jack,” Pitch spun them around once, as if Jack needed to see it again even though their eyes were on each other, “Things just end up collected here. Does it really matter how?”

“It matters a little,” Jack cringed. 

“My God, you two are making me feel warm and fuzzy,” Seifer shook his head, as if that might clear up the soft, heavy feeling draping over his mind. It was a literal thing, for Seifer. The electricity of chemistry, the warm blanket of love, the lightness of a silly crush. It was his intrinsic radar to let him know where good couples were and if he was successful. Normally, it felt more like instinct than chloroform, but normally he wasn’t surrounded by two disgustingly happy couples and a pair of newlyweds. If the sheer amount of  _ love  _ he sensed in this room wasn’t as reassuring and heartening as it was, Seifer would have been desperate to get the fuck away.

Pitch and Jack were just being obnoxious right now, though.

“Makes me glad I don’t have a center,” Suzaku muttered quietly. Lelouch had  _ stories  _ and Suzaku was thankful to be spared.

“Right?” Goku laughed, holding up a hand for Suzaku to high-five and completely lacking the tact of being anything less than loud, “Like it isn’t hard enough to keep shit straight as it is.”

“I think I need coffee,” Seifer growled.

….Oh right, he was supposed to be hosting. Pitch sighed and  _ very  _ reluctantly…. unhooked a single arm from Jack’s waist. The Guardian was quite literally wrapped around him, and if Jack wasn’t ready to release him, he wasn’t going to push. “I thought the warm and fuzzy thing was what you  _ lived  _ for,” the Boogeyman drawled, but before further comment could be made, he did the courteous thing, “Now do you still take your coffee the same, and can I get anyone else anything?” 

“ _ Ooh,  _ make me one of your fancy English teas,” Lelouch was quick to seize the opportunity. 

“Beer if you have it,” as was Sanzo. 

“Hot chocolate!” Goku cheered.

“If you’ve got any cider on hand, otherwise a coffee like Seifer,” Suzaku added.

Jack waited until Pitch’s eyes met his, then winked, “Surprise me.”

“Pumpkin Spice Latte,” came a so far unheard voice from the center of the lair.

In the midst of trying to memorize everyone’s order, Pitch  _ almost  _ missed where that last one came from.  _ Almost.  _ But he knew that voice, and besides Jack, there was only one other spirit that enjoyed pumpkin spice as much as he did. 

Fuck, it was a damn  _ party _ . 

Pitch had to be sure, so he took Jack with him into the shadows and reappeared before the globe, where an attractive man with tiny sunglasses and dark clothes was currently occupying the cushions. “ _ Fuuma, _ ” he greeted with mock exasperation, “Your first stop  _ would  _ be the bed, wouldn’t it?”

Mother Nature offered an unapologetic smile, “It’s a nice bed.”

Jack finally unwound his legs, pecking Pitch on the cheek before using him as a step stool to climb into the nest. He hooked his staff over Greenland and let it hang, then settled where Jack could see both men easily, “I’m not sure how I feel about an invader in the nest.”

There was a loud sound on the air that could have been a warrior charging into battle or an excited monkey on a swing followed by a bronze blur and the next thing anyone knew, Goku was face down in the cushions and not moving from there.

“Two,” Jack amended after a moment, “two invaders in the nest.”

“This  _ is  _ a nice bed,” Lelouch declared as the rest of the group made their way over. He slid onto the cushions next to Jack admiring just how plush it all was, “Very creative. I like it.” 

Comfy as it might have looked, neither Sanzo or Squall felt any need to venture  _ that  _ close to it, not when it was looking like it was going to get crowded  _ fast.  _

Pitch was the opposite. He  _ wanted  _ to crawl in after his boyfriend, but he had orders to fulfill, and was minorly disappointed Jack was not offering to help take care of  _ both  _ of their friends in what had became  _ their  _ home. 

Maybe he needed to stop spoiling the brat rotten. ...Unlikely. “And what am I about to do?  _ Feed  _ the invaders. Do me a favor and make sure they don’t multiply…” the Boogeyman grumbled before melting back into the shadows. He made a detour to personally ask the sea witch what he would like and then disappeared completely into the kitchen. 

Once he was gone, Lelouch flopped back onto the pillows and nudged the white-haired Guardian, “Shouldn’t you, you know…  _ Help  _ him?” 

“Do what, burn water?” Jack challenged, before lying back and getting comfortable in  _ his  _ bed, “Besides, isn’t it just as rude to abandon your guests to their own devices? Consider me the  _ social  _ host.”

“I think I’ll consider you  _ lazy, _ ” the violet-eyed spirit teased. Oh well. At least he’d  _ tried  _ for Pitch’s sake. Onto the next order of business, “Hello Fuuma, how are you?” 

Fuuma smiled like Lelouch wondering after him was the light of his life, “I’m very well. The earth turns, seasons are changing, and my son just face-planted into my side.”

The aforementioned son finally rolled over, kicking his feet until he was propped up against the walls of the globe in something resembling a sitting position, “Aww, Mom! I missed you, too!”

“Mom?” Jack Frost weakly asked.

The monkey king was suddenly enveloped in Mother Nature’s long arms, nimble fingers petting chestnut locks out of bright, golden eyes, “What else would he call his mother?”

“But,” Jack tried to reason, “but you’re not…”

“Jack,” Lelouch started like the younger spirit was committing some grave offense, “Are you really going to question the maternity of  _ Mother Nature? _ ” 

“I’m not saying they’re not related,” Jack insisted defensively, “I’m just saying,  _ how?”  _

Seifer took pity on the frost spirit, alighting softly into the nest with a flap of his wings, “Goku was born from a rock."

Jack didn’t feel pitied, “I’m not sure how that makes any more sense, honestly.”

“More sense than a little Japanese boy combing out his beard with a large pine tree?” Seifer teased, reminding Jack that they were  _ all  _ a little less than logical.

Suzaku gave Seifer a dark look as he climbed into the globe next to his lover.

“Okay, no, seriously,” Jack sat up like his words were just  _ too serious  _ for lounging, “How did  _ you  _ become  _ Paul Bunyan?”  _

The lumberjack shrugged, looking down at the bedding before he raised his eyes to meet Jack’s, “You remember what America was like then. You didn’t get anywhere by having an ethnic name, insisting on tradition, and keeping your culture. You sucked it up, did your job, called yourself Paul, and got over it.”

“And the ham skating?”

Suzaku rolled his eyes like it might keep the  _ stupidity  _ from infecting him, “I was just exciting enough to be remarkable but too boring to be real. Nobody wanted to hear about the below average height Japanese boy who did not literally stomp out forest fires with his boots. Thus, I became unreal. Americans liked me better that way.”

That was actually kind of depressing, Jack thought. “So then how remarkable were you really?”

Lelouch snaked his arms around his lover comfortingly. He knew first hand that Suzaku’s history was not his favorite conversation topic, and he also knew Jack was not the type to leave things alone. “Did you  _ not  _ see the two giant oak trees he carried down here? No one matches Suzaku’s pure,  _ non-magic-enhanced  _ strength.” 

… _ ”Non-magic-enhanced?”  _ Jack repeated, just to be sure.

“Non-magic-enhanced. The only magical aspect of him is his immortality.” 

That was… No. No, Suzaku just ran across America in a couple of hours.  _ No.  _ “You’re fucking with me.”

Seifer laughed.

Lelouch was smirking, but looked sincerely over at the brunette in his arms, “Am I fucking with him?” 

Suzaku looked politely bored. What he could do wasn’t news to  _ him,  _ after all. Still, he obligingly answered, “If Lulu enhanced my strength at all, I haven’t noticed.”

“But,” Jack broke, “but you…”

“I don’t get why you’re surprised,” Goku said from the comfort of his mother’s embrace, “There’s always been remarkable humans. Just because most end up in history books rather than folklore doesn’t mean they aren’t remarkable. You heard Suzaku; he’s legend because people made shit up. It had nothing to do with him. He just did his job.”

The Guardian shook his head, “But great courage isn’t the same as… as  _ that.”  _

“I admit to being something of an anomaly,” Suzaku deadpanned. 

“I didn’t mean courage,” Goku insisted, “Like, yeah, sure, courage too. And superhuman intelligence. And crazy creativity. But there’s always been that guy who could build a house in a day, walk on swords with bare feet, lift cars. Sanzo’s kind of like that, even before he was made a God again.”

“Thankfully the monks kept their crazy ass exaggerated stories within the monasteries,” Sanzo piped in where he was leaning against the outside of the metal frame. There was even less temptation to go inside with the creepy, clingy ‘in-law’ around, but he couldn’t leave Goku on his own either.  _ Especially  _ with the creepy, clingy in-law around. 

“Americans aren’t very discreet,” was Lelouch’s sound conclusion as he laid his head on the lumberjack’s shoulder. 

Suzaku cleared his throat. He didn’t like admitting this. No more than North might enjoy talking about how Santa was used to sell Coke. “And they’re very commercialized. Paul Bunyan stories were invented and published with the sole purpose of popularizing the lumber and oil trades at the time.”

Jack gave him an odd look, “You have the weirdest fucking origin story.”

“Weirder than the rock?” Seifer asked.

“Cracked right down the middle,” Goku reminisced, “The first thing I ever saw was the full moon.”

Jack Frost forgot all about superhuman lumberjacks with those words, “The moon?”

“It didn’t speak to me or anything,” Goku clarified with a careless tilt of his head, “It was just there. Big and bright and right above me, like it was bearing witness or something.”

Fuuma shrugged, “He kind of was. I was sort of declaring passive aggressive war against Heaven and I thought Manny ought to watch.”

Sanzo scoffed. That ‘passive-aggressive’ war had turned into a very real, very long, very violent war and resulted in exactly where he and Goku were standing today. Sure, they were mostly at peace  _ now _ , but that didn’t erase all the death and tragedy that had taken place. 

Although, Mother Nature tended to specialize in death and tragedy of the most unpreventable kind. It was hard to decide whether to feel spiteful or grateful at the end of the day. “So were you just bored or did someone in Heaven piss you off?” 

“Self-important assholes always piss me off,” Fuuma airily replied, cuddling Goku closer. So self-important they thought they could chain Goku indefinitely. But he is of the earth, and only grew stronger with time.

“So,” came the voice of their host, emerging from the darkness with a tray holding just about every kind of drinking vessel available. And in the middle were several packages of oreos because he really did need to use up their surplus. “When will you be declaring passive-aggressive war on the Guardians? I’d like to be in on that.” 

Fuuma hummed thoughtfully, reaching one hand out for his latte, “They don’t meddle the way Heaven used to. For example, they are doing nothing about our dear undine. They don’t imagine themselves to be all-powerful and in charge, just very concerned with children. If that changes, then so will my feelings.”

Jack gave Pitch a sideways, flat look as if it alone could remind the shadowman that he fucked a Guardian in his spare time. “I guess you won your war, since most people don’t know Heaven’s even still around.”

Pitch just returned that look with a smile and handed Jack his ‘surprise’: A spiced caramel apple cider with whipped cream on top and couple pieces of candy corn sticking out of the fluffy white mound. There was one for Suzaku too. And he did the same decorating for Goku’s hot chocolate, as well as Fuuma’s latte. There was cream and sugar for Lelouch’s tea, and both Squall and Seifer’s coffee, and lastly a glass of wine for Sanzo. He didn’t tend to stock beer. 

The drinks were distributed effortlessly, like Pitch entertained guests  _ all the time _ , and he’d even managed to lure the rogue undine closer to steal a few cookies with his coffee. He’d then proceeded to climb up the globe to enjoy them in peace, but at least he was  _ sort of  _ part of the group now.

“Please do not be shy with the oreos,” Pitch announced to everyone, “I grossly overestimated how many I would need to keep a certain teenage frost spirit happy.”

Jack laughed and took a whole package for himself because why the fuck not? Then he took hold of the Boogeyman’s robes and pulled him in just as greedily.

Suzaku was tentatively sipping his cider, careful of the beverage’s temperature, but his eyes widened with each taste, “This might be the best apple cider I’ve ever had.”

Pitch barely had time to set the tray down on the little nightstand next to the globe, which had appeared out of necessity after many nights of sleeping in what was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, and slid into the nest with his own latte between Jack and Lelouch. “You’re too kind, Mister Bunyan.” 

“I’m convinced he was a barista before becoming the King of Nightmares,” the Blue Fairy voiced his own opinion on a perfectly brewed cup of tea.

Even Sanzo had to admit the wine was some of the good shit. 

“It was the other way around,” Fuuma smoothly corrected, finally releasing Goku so he could switch hands and pet Seifer’s wings with an admiring smile, “King first, homemaker second.”

Seifer was already halfway through his coffee. The warm sluggish feeling was apparently there to stay. The petting helped; it felt nice, of course, but it also put him on edge and the tension woke him up better than the ridiculously delicious coffee could. “Mm,” Seifer shook his head, “King first,  _ hoarder  _ second, homemaker third.”

“I have a lot of space and a lot of time on my hands,” Pitch defended, though not feeling any actual offense. There was too much ammunition against him in his home. “I guarantee if any of you had a palace of your own, you’d hoard things too. And teach yourself how to make a damn cookie.” 

“The world is my palace,” Fuuma said with a distant tone, leaning back into the cushions, “You are all my things.”

It was weird for Jack when he could  _ feel  _ the enjoyment Fuuma got out of saying those kind of things.

“I dunno,” Goku whined, flopping down and burrowing into the bed now that he was free to move again, “I’ve been around a long time too, and I  _ still  _ can’t cook for shit.”

And Sanzo knew exactly why. “You have no patience when it comes to food. Thousands of years isn’t gonna change that.” 

“I’ve definitely seen you try to eat things raw,” Jack helpfully supplied.

Goku groaned, “I can’t help it. Food’s so tasty…”

“Does that mean  _ you  _ cook for him, Sanzo?” Lelouch asked. 

“Che…When I have to.” Sanzo… wasn’t going to go into details. No one needed to know how the little brat suckered him into making a meal here or there like their life was some fucking romantic movie. He walked over to grab the wine bottle still on the tray, and took a page out of the weird fish guy’s book. They were going to be here a while. Might as well be comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could be sitting on a giant metal sphere. 

Seifer had a sixth sense for wheedling, “And how often is that?”

“Often enough,” came Sanzo’s very ‘ _ drop-it’  _ answer.

Seifer just turned his look on Goku.

Who shrugged, rolling to lay on his stomach in the blankets, “Maybe twice a month? I can’t starve, so he won’t do it unless we really haven’t had food in a long time.” The monkey pressed his face into the cushions, but continued mumbling, “Which is sad ‘cause I really like his cooking. Not ‘cause it’s good, but ‘cause it’s Sanzo, you know?”

“I do not know,” Jack informed flatly, “The love of my life happens to also be an incredible chef so I am unfamiliar with that situation.”

“I don’t think abundantly sweet coffee drinks and pancakes qualify me as incredible. Or a chef for that matter,” Pitch had to refute, though he looped an arm around the Guardian’s middle and held him just a bit closer, “but I’m glad that you think so.”

“Ugh, you two aren’t going to stop are you,” Lelouch muttered into the rim of his tea cup, “Is it within your power to make them tone it down, Seifer?” 

“Nope,” Seifer answered, slumping down onto the bed and out from under Fuuma’s hand, “I’m not God. I giveth but I cannot taketh away.”

“It’s not just coffee. It’s also cider,” Jack gestured with his cup, “And it’s not just pancakes. You also make cookies and cakes and puddings and custards and we made ice cream that one time, remember? I mean, it started out as an accident, but still.”

“Honest question, Jack,” Suzaku began from where he was slowly sliding down into Lelouch’s lap, “How often does what you accomplish begin as an accident?”

“Nearly all of it.”

“They’re happy accidents.” Pitch then challenged a question right back at the rivaling couple, “Now why would you want us to tone it down? I thought you all were so  _ miserable  _ when we weren’t together.” 

“...I do suppose the toothache is better than--...” Lelouch cut himself off before he  _ really  _ couldn’t look Pitch in the eye, “Nevermind. Carry on with your newlywed antics.” 

Suzaku met Pitch’s eyes easily, “I didn’t say anything.”

Jack crawled into Pitch’s lap like he was claiming his fucking territory, “If we want to act like newlyweds for literally the rest of forever, we will.”

Seifer groaned, “Normally I love it, but it’s definitely not just you two. Merryweather over there is helpless when it comes to Dranzer and Dexter fucking  _ adores  _ Mary Stigmata up there. And let’s not pretend Fruit Boy isn’t chronically in love. Thank God Princess doesn’t love me yet, or I might’ve just passed the fuck out already.”

“You’re welcome,” came the low voice of the mostly silent sea witch. 

“ _ Still _ ?” Lelouch sounded honestly exasperated this time, “I was hoping you’d have a date picked out by now.” 

“Of course I do,” Seifer defended indignantly, looking not at all intimidating face-first in the bed. He actually looked a lot like a painting of a sleeping angel, surrounded by blankets as he was, “I just don’t have his agreement yet.”

“Am I gonna have to wear a tux?” Jack asked from the side.

“Not anytime soon,” the Blue Fairy grumbled. 

Sanzo, from his perch next to the brunette, frowned. “You’re undine, aren’t you?” 

Squall  _ wanted  _ to say it was none of this guy’s business, but the priest man seemed like one of the more reasonable ones of the group. Also a lot less noisy. “Yeah.” 

“Hn,” Sanzo studied Squall for a moment, and then directed his next comment at the beached cherub, “Didn’t realize Cupid had a death wish.” 

“I don’t,” Seifer argued, voice muffled by blanket. It was almost as warm as the feelings in his heart. “I’m gonna be the most loyal husband the world has ever known.”

“Yeah, that’s how it always starts,” Sanzo huffed, pulling out another cigarette. 

Squall… wasn’t following. Was this more than a joke about the whole till-death-do-us-part bullshit? And wasn’t immortality still a thing? “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Seifer was clearly unimpressed with the ancient priest, “Mary Stigmata thinks we’re gonna fall on the part of the bell curve that means I’ll look too long at someone and you’ll kill me for it. But then, Mary Stigmata doesn’t believe in marriage, does he?”

“What bell curve?” Squall cut off any potential answer Sanzo might have had, only growing more confused by the second, “I thought killing you was impossible.” 

“Killing a spirit is very possible, especially if you’re another spirit,” Seifer, now that it was Squall he was talking to, found the energy to roll over onto his wings so he could look up at the sea witch in equal confusion, “And you’ll have… Well, the  _ right  _ to kill me, as the spouse of an undine. I thought you already knew this? It wasn’t really the intended outcome, but undine are naturally possessive of their spouses, and when it doesn’t work out, there’s this nasty tendency to violently and gruesomely murder them. Undine don’t really believe in divorce.”

Squall fixed what he could see of Cupid with a hard stare taking in this new information. “No, I ...didn’t know any of that.” It didn’t, and yet kind of did, change things. Squall was risking his mortal life taking a chance on Seifer, and Seifer was risking his immortal one making sure he didn’t make the same mistake twice.

That meant… Seifer couldn’t leave him. Not unless he wanted to  _ die.  _ Although at the moment, Squall couldn’t even fathom falling into a murderous rage that would violently destroy the blond, but who knew what he’d actually feel once he got his soul back. 

Which really just made the whole situation even more terrifying. “What happens to the undine after…? Do they stay immortal?” 

"Nope," Seifer answered, tone far lighter than the serious look in his eyes, "You'd go right back to mortality after you murdered me. Most undine want to be immortal though, so after they kill their spouse, they just go find another. Really, undine are like fishy black widows."

….

Then ...there  _ was _ no risk for him? If Seifer made Squall miserable, there could still be an escape. Of course killing the person you supposedly love would be no walk in the park, but if worse came to absolute  _ worst _ … 

And Seifer knew this. He knew  _ him.  _ They’d nearly taken each other’s heads off, and  _ still  _ the other gunblader wanted him. Wanted him  _ forever.  _ He would literally be closing down any and all potential that could have existed in his immortal life by choosing Squall, a decision he’d already made  _ months  _ ago. Either the winged man didn’t mind the idea of dying, or…

Seifer loved him. He was the  _ God of Love _ . Why would he use his own element to manipulate when he was supposed to believe in its power? 

Fuck. 

This was not the time to be having these kinds of revelations. Everyone was listening to them. “....Oh.” 

Including Pitch, who had to ask after picking up on trace amounts of fear coming off the sea witch, “How can you not know this? Didn’t Lelouch  _ tell  _ you what you were getting into?” 

The Blue Fairy  _ was _ looking a bit sheepish once it was very apparent how confused Squall was. “We never really… went over the fine print.” 

“God damn it, Merryweather.”

Suzaku’s sigh was telling, “Did you go over  _ any  _ print?”

“I don’t get it,” Goku said, cutting through everyone else’s complaints, “Why would he need to know that? Seifer already said he’s going to be loyal. So it doesn’t matter, right?”

“The risk only comes in how serious both of them want to pursue the relationship. All I did was my job. And besides all the fatal commitment business, being undine came with a few nifty perks. I stand by what I did,” Lelouch easily defended. He  _ always  _ stood by his actions, and maybe that had gotten him killed once upon a time, but he was too proud to conduct his business any other way. 

“I’m not complaining,” Squall offered, since it was his wish and all, “I got what I asked for. It shouldn’t matter to anyone else.” 

“It matters to me a bit,” Seifer argued.

“Me, too,” Suzaku chimed.

“It’s a very exciting dynamic,” Fuuma grinned.

“Okay, but it doesn’t  _ change  _ anything,” Jack concluded, slumping back into Pitch, “Squall is still a fishy black widow and Seifer is still going to take his chances.  _ Will I have to wear a tux?”  _

“I haven’t said yes yet.” Squall even managed to sound  _ annoyed.  _

“I bet you’d look  _ fetching  _ in a tux,” Pitch grinned, a hand running down the length of Jack’s arm, “Bare feet and all.” 

Suzaku was doubtful, “How are we even going to  _ get  _ tuxes when most people can’t see us for measurements?”

And then Pitch was immediately groaning, “Good Gods, none of you can sew either?” 

Lelouch only chuckled, “Oh I have this way of obtaining things people want…” 

“Oh man,” Goku whined, “do I have to wear a tux, too?”

“Lulu, could you at least  _ pay  _ for it, this time?”

Jack suddenly turned on his boyfriend, “Wait, you can  _ sew?”  _

Seifer looked reluctantly amused, “You guys remember I have wings sticking out of my back, right?”

“Then what  _ are  _ we wearing, Seifer? Apparently we need to know immediately so we can start planning.” Lelouch was carefully avoiding the pleading of his lover, instead smirking over at the Boogeyman, “Pitch needs to know how much fabric to get.”    


Squall had to complain again though. This wasn’t fair that everyone was acting like his fucking consent didn’t matter. “There’s nothing to  _ plan _ yet.” 

“What can I say?” Seifer shrugged, admiring Squall from below, “We’re an optimistic bunch.”

Squall was glaring at him for it, in spite of the revelations he still needed time to digest. “You said you already picked out a fucking date.” 

“I’ve had my personal Ideal Dates to be Married On picked out for about one-point-five millennia. Of course, they  _ change  _ sometimes, but still. If you had agreed to marry me eight hundred years ago, I would already have had the dates picked out.”

...And what could Squall say to that except, “Whatever.” There was also the idea that Seifer wanted to invite  _ all these people  _ and had he ever been the type for grand celebrations? They… had a lot to talk about. Seifer had to know that much. 

Pitch was not used to having someone more teenagery than  _ Jack _ in his lair. How in the world did Cupid put up with it? “Then, in an ideal world where such an event may or may  _ not  _ occur, what will it be? Tuxes or topless?”

“Before you answer, keep in mind  _ the most important part,”  _ Fuuma interrupted seriously,  _ “Sanzo  _ may have to abandon his robes and wear a tux.”

“Che. If I’m officiating the damn thing, I’ll wear what I damn well please.” 

Seifer looked unconcerned, “I’ll admit, I’ve had visions in my head of what everyone would wear to my wedding, but those were all before I realized one of our best men would probably be a shark."

…

There was a collective moment of silence, until it clicked with Lelouch. 

“ _ Oh.  _ The pet shark. Right.” 

The pet shark that Pitch was kind of curious to meet. Squall had made friends with  _ his  _ pets after all. ….Then again, “Does that mean… Will I have to dance with a shark?”

“I’ll be jealous.” Jack declared immediately, then followed, “Of you. Dancing with a shark sounds amazing.”

Pitch had  _ almost  _ been touched. 

“...If you can manage to even get her to swim with you, I’ll be impressed,” Squall interjected. Besides himself and Seifer, everyone else in the world was shark bait. If anyone had a chance of keeping Shiva’s attention other than that of her next meal, it probably would have been the man that  _ looked  _ like a shark though. 

...Not that he was contemplating the wedding or anything. 

Pitch wasn’t going to let it go if Squall was going to play along. “I like a good challenge. Particularly when it comes to dancing.” He then called out a little louder, “Isn’t that right, ladies?” 

The King was answered by a chorus of whinnies in the darkness. 

“He does actually, seriously dance with horses,” Jack explained flatly.

“It’s beautiful,” Fuuma purred.

Lelouch put on a frown of offense that was only half mocking. “And why have I never been invited to one of these equestrian dance parties?”

“It’s a right time, right place sort of thing,” the shade explained, eyes lingering on Fuuma like he was wondering how many times the spirit of nature might have caught him unaware, “And now I’ve just eliminated the possibility of being snuck up on during one.” 

“Hmph.” Lelouch couldn’t cross his arms with his hands busy holding a tea cup and petting Suzaku’s head in his lap, so all of his indignance was in his tone, “You’re lucky this is such a good cup of tea and I’m comfortable, or I’d demand you prove it right here and now that they can dance.” 

“Unlucky for you, Jack’s in my lap, so I wouldn’t be going anywhere either way.” 

“Damnit, you two…” 

“How  _ dare  _ you, Lelouch!” Jack cried with over-the-top passion, leaning precariously out of that lap for dramatics’ sake, “The Nightmares are not  _ show ponies  _ for your amusement! They are graceful, elegant, intelligent creatures who  _ happen to dance when Pitch plays electroswing.”  _

...Pitch had the best boyfriend. He really did. His arms wrapped a little tighter around that slim waist and he dipped down for a quick kiss on Jack’s cheek, “ _ Exactly. _ ” 

Lelouch found it hilarious. The Nightmares absolutely  _ were  _ a bunch of show ponies, and the biggest one of all was sitting next to him in a nest of pillows. Apparently having Jack in his lap meant that much to him. ….Which. Ugh. “ _ Fine.  _ I did say I’m  _ not  _ making demands now. Relax, Your Highness.” 

“I’ll relax when it ceases to be more fun not to,” Jack said primly, rolling onto his back in Pitch’s lap so that he was cradled in Pitch’s arms and his posture had zero dignity to it. 

And the Boogeyman only added to the picture he made by stroking his hair.

“You’re right,” Lelouch laughed, shaking his head, “I don’t want to know what more relaxed than  _ that  _ looks like.”

“If you’ve ever witnessed someone pass out drunk, then you’ve already seen it,” Seifer remarked, rolling onto his side and snuggling into a wing.

Goku was looking forlornly at the bottom of his empty cup, “What do we do when it’s gone?”

“In your case?” Cupid grinned, “Ask for more, probably.”

“No!” Jack wailed, kicking his feet and working his way deeper into Pitch’s lap, “You’re not allowed. I want my sugar daddy to stay right where he is.”

“Stars, Jack, now you’re just being rude.” Except Pitch was wearing such an affectionate smile, and he hadn’t stopped petting. It wasn’t anything new that he loved it when Jack got that clingy over  _ him.  _ ...Although it was suspect as to whether or not it was Pitch he wanted or just a lukewarm body pillow. “My apologies, Goku. Can I offer you some of my latte for now?” 

Goku was never one to say no. He held his hands out greedily, “Yes, thank you!”

Cupid had another comment for that, “I can’t believe you’re about to caffeinate the monkey.”

“What do we do with the cups once they’re empty?” Suzaku politely enquired, holding his out as an example.

“Just set them on the tray, I’ll take care of it later,” Pitch directed as he handed over the mug that he didn’t expect to get another sip out of. “If I can deal with a caffeinated Jack Frost, I can deal with a caffeinated monkey.” 

“Good to know. I’ll be sure to drop him off more often,” came a priestly reply from above. 

Immediately, Seifer was passing his cup over to Suzaku who passed both of theirs on to Jack who wasn’t upset at all at how he had to twist and press closer to Pitch to reach the tray. He downed the rest of his own just to free up his hands for better clinging to his boyfriend and grabbed Goku’s abandoned cup just to get it out of the nest, too. “Anybody else?”

Lelouch took his last sip and handed it over. It was probably the most hostly thing Jack had done, but his intimate body language all over Pitch hadn’t gone unnoticed either. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Even if it had, the way Jack set the last cup down and then immediately began tugging on Pitch’s back and shoulders to get the shade to lay down on top of him would have been pretty fucking hard to miss. 

Seifer snorted from the other side of the bed, “I’m not sure brats qualify as sirs.”

“And he’s definitely being a brat,” Lelouch observed with a quirked eyebrow. 

Pitch had to remember himself when he was faced with those brilliant eyes and sassy smirk beneath him. It was a bit too familiar of a position considering how’d they’d spent the past  _ week  _ and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to forget that their bed currently hit maximum capacity of bodies. 

There was no hiding the way he was enjoying it though, not from Jack. “You’re going to give them all the wrong ideas about us, dear.”

“I’m not sure how they could get the wrong idea from this,” Jack had to laugh, “This seems pretty  _ right.”  _

Second cup empty, Goku made to pass it along for placing on the tray

Jack was confused at first, but then turned a glare on the Monkey King, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You’re closer,” Goku whined.

Jack rolled his eyes, “And you’re not being pinned down by a delicious morsel of man. You can put your own cup on the tray!”

“Fuck,  _ fine,”  _ Goku griped, rolling up into a sitting position so he could reach, but on his way back, his eyes caught on something irresistible and he stole Jack’s cookies out from under him. Nevermind that there were more on the tray. “But now these are mine!”

“What? No!” Jack cried, suddenly trying to twist out from under Pitch and grab the cookies back, “Get your own!  _ There’s a pile on the tray!”  _

“I want these!” Goku declared with glee.

“And I rather like Jack right where he is so…” So of course Pitch summoned the help of the shadows to make a grab for the cookies while he kept his hands on his squirming boyfriend. 

“Oh my God,  _ children,” _ Lelouch pretended to scold and did the very  _ adult  _ thing by grabbing the nearest pillow to bop both Pitch and Jack on the head, “No fighting.” 

It was as if Jack hadn’t even heard him,  _ “He’s going to eat them all!”  _

_ “There’s more on the tray,”  _ Seifer pointedly reminded.

Fuuma shrugged, unconcerned, “It’s a matter of pride.”

And it was as Goku dipped and dodged the shadows, scrambling over Fuuma’s legs and nearly kneeing Seifer in the face, “Boyfriend or cookies! You can’t have it all!”

It was too close for Cupid’s comfort and he took a page out of Lelouch’s book, grabbing a cushion and smacking the monkey as hard in the side as he could, “Watch it, Dexter!”

It toppled the child of Earth right over onto Suzaku who was, of course, quick enough to grab a pillow in defense and bounced the monkey right back into the middle of the nest.

Where Jack made a grab at victory, “If I want it all, I’ll have it all, damn it!”

“You’re not working very hard for it,” the Blue Fairy teased with another bop on Jack’s head, blinding him from getting anywhere close to the cookie package. 

It prompted Pitch to change tactics and he used the shadows to grab that same pillow and turn Lelouch’s own weapon against him, “Stop antagonizing my boyfriend.” 

Goku scrambled literally into Fuuma's lap to escape Jack's grabby hands, "Stop helping him!"

"If it's a war you want,  _ wish granted, _ " Lelouch declared while grabbing a new pillow behind him to parry Pitch’s next attack. 

“My lair, my rules,” was the Nightmare King’s defense, another tendril of shadow creeping towards the cowering Goku.    


"Wait," Seifer said, rolling to his side to get as far away from... all of it as possible, "who's helping who, here?"

"Don't let him eat the cookies, Matchstick!" Jack cried, muffled in a combination of cushion and Pitch's shoulder.

_ "There's more on the tray!" _

And then Suzaku was diving across the bed to tackle Goku off of Fuuma's lap, "Then he could have taken those!"

Lelouch truly loved Suzaku’s enthusiasm. And his ass. He had a great view of it from his spot until there was a pillow trying to smother his face. Rolling to the side, he brought his pillow down with a nice audible ‘thump’ against Pitch’s back to retaliate, “Every man for himself, I say. You’re either with me or against me, Cupid!” 

Seifer grabbed a pillow purely for defense and shouted back, “Those ideas are mutually exclusive, Merryweather!”

“You’re either helping me or helping Goku, Matchstick!,” Jack yelled, just to make sure he could be heard. He was kind of smothered under Pitch, still. “My team is me, Pitch, and apparently Suzaku.”

Seifer bothered to consider this. If the nest was going to devolve into chaos, he might as well participate. “Then I guess it’s only fair if I help Dexter, right?”

“That entirely depends on what Fuuma’s going to do,” Lelouch reasoned. 

“Fuuma’s going to  _ watch,”  _ Mother Nature answered primly.

“How disappointing,” Pitch managed, his shadow smacking Lelouch with enough force that the younger spirit recoiled back onto the cushions, “I would have thought you’d enjoy a hand in the chaos.” 

“I do,” Fuuma cryptically replied.

“Mmph! Damnit, Pitch, you’re totally  _ cheating _ ,” the Blue Fairy grumbled in the background.

“All’s fair in love and war!” Jack cried. Which was significantly less impressive from under Pitch.

“Ugh. Suzaku are you going to sit there and let the Boogeyman beat me up?!” Lelouch called out before he was thwaped with the pillow once more.

The lumberjack rolled his eyes from where he had Goku in a headlock, doing little more than keeping the monkey too occupied to eat the cookies. He was a handful even on the best of days, after all. “Lulu, you practically  _ started  _ this. If you didn’t want to get smacked by a pillow, you shouldn’t have smacked someone with a pillow.”

“So unsupportive. It’s amazing we ever accomplish  _ anything  _ together.” Lelouch played it off as mocking but the sheer amount of  _ not  _ wanting to help irked the violet-eyed spirit almost more than Suzaku’s usual not wanting  _ anything.  _

So instead of trying to smack Pitch, he went and chucked a pillow at his traitorous boyfriend. 

“My, what a twist!” Which didn’t go unnoticed by the Nightmare King.

“Hey!” Suzaku ducked, losing his grip on Goku. As the Monkey King escaped, Suzaku took hold of the pillow and turned, smoothly launching it right back into his lover’s face.

Lelouch barely had time to block it. But as soon as he was over the sputtering, the pillow was flying back at the lumberjack with as much extra spite as he could muster, “Hey yourself!”

Meanwhile, Goku had taken refuge with Cupid, who was hoping to end this war quickly by removing the temptation, therefore was tearing into the cookie package with abandon and letting Goku get his grabby hands all over them.

“Matchstick!  _ How could you?!”  _ Jack screamed, squirming desperately out from under his boyfriend so that he could launch himself bodily at the cherub to stop him.

Seifer was not quite nimble enough to get himself out of the way, but he  _ could  _ hide the cookies behind Goku to make it harder for Jack to steal and quoted right back at him, “All’s fair in love and war!”

Jack cried in despair, “My cookies!”

“Are delicious!” Goku cried back.

And Pitch was suddenly left without a boyfriend or a victim. He chuckled watching Jack trying to take down the muscular mass that was the God of Love and slowly rolled over onto his back to watch it play out. The shadows retreated back to their master; Jack didn’t get extra help when he’d almost literally been shoved aside. “Wow, they’re already half gone…” Pitch commented helpfully. 

A fact Sanzo did not want to hear. Goku loaded up on a bunch of caffeine  _ and  _ sugar? He was so fucked. “Oi! You don’t need to eat every fucking cookie!” 

“Yes I do!” Goku yelled back, mouth full.

Suzaku was a problem solver. He grabbed a second package from the tray and similarly opened them, then lunged into the fray. His plan was to replace the package Indiana Jones style and make everybody happy. 

He was probably only giving Goku a second package to consume, but at least he was  _ trying.  _

Lelouch would be the first to call Suzaku out on that bullshit. “What are you giving him  _ more  _ for?”

….Well fuck. “I’ll pick him up in the morning,” came Sanzo’s version of problem solving. 

“I don’t remember volunteering to do any monkey babysitting,” Pitch protested, “This bed may hold many, but it’s only meant for  _ two  _ by the end of the night. _ ” _

“Tough shit.” Sanzo was not the least bit threatened by the Boogeyman.

“Then I hope he likes having nightmares.” But that was kind of a dick move. 

Suddenly, Goku was halfway up the wall of the globe and clinging to Sanzo’s foot, “No! Sanzooo, don’t leave meee!”

Suzaku took this opportunity to swap the packages.

Jack took this opportunity to steal his package back and refill it with cookies from the second package, because he was an advantageous little fucker.

Sanzo instantly started trying to shake the brat off of him, “Then calm your ass down and stop eating all the fucking cookies!” 

“But they’re so good, Sanzo!”

“It’s a fucking oreo. You act like you’ve never had one before.” 

The monkey shrugged, unrepentant, “It’s been awhile."

Loot secured, Jack slunk back over to Pitch and cautiously hid behind him to snack on his cookies, settling down as snugly as he could into the shadowman’s back, “Victory.”

… Pitch wasn’t sure what to do with Jack quite literally trying to burrow under him. With his new stash. While he was lying flat on the cushions. Did he really think that was a good hiding place? 

As the good boyfriend he was, Pitch did exactly nothing to help aide in the frost spirit’s struggle. “Don’t say that too loudly.” 

Jack just rolled his eyes and nudged Pitch harder.

Seeing the war rapidly dissipating, Suzaku slumped back into the cushions like a puppet with his strings cut. Without a mission to carry out, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. The excitement of only seconds ago faded and the lumberjack was left listless and directionless.

So he slid sideways into Lelouch and kicked his feet up to rest in Seifer’s lap. He could still annoy his war hawk of a boyfriend.

Indeed, Lelouch was predictably annoyed, the sudden weight against him making him frown. His nudge was the opposite of what Jack was doing to Pitch to disrupt the comfort Suzaku was trying to achieve. “ _ Now  _ you come to my side?” 

“Well, since we’re not  _ enemies  _ anymore…”

Seifer couldn’t help his chuckle, settling his head against Fuuma’s thigh since he couldn’t get very far with Suzaku weighing him down and it was probably the safest place to be, anyway. Suzaku was purposefully thwarting Lelouch’s plots just to be contrary and people thought Squall was unusual, amongst them? “Nothing says, ‘love,’ like, ‘Viva la revolucion!’”

“Yes, but one usually isn’t in love with what they are having a revolution against.” Lelouch had been dealing with revolutions even in his mortal life; he would know. 

Though he did end up laying back, sandwiching Jack between himself and the Nightmare King, and pet Suzaku’s hair. “Does this mean a truce has been established?” 

“No!” Jack hissed, low enough that Lelouch could only hear him because of how close they currently were, “I have attained victory!”

Seifer shrugged, “You can’t really play chess when one of the kings goes gallivanting off after his absent queen.”

“Sanzo’s the  _ prettiest  _ queen,” Goku declared, slipping down from the side of the globe and ungracefully falling into the center of the nest, half-laying on top of nearly everyone in the process. 

Little brat. Sanzo scoffed and pulled his foot up on the globe where it couldn’t be clung to. “I would smack you for that if you weren’t in a literal pile of dicks.” 

… When Squall glanced down at the group, he honestly could not think of a more appropriate description. 

“And since when do you have a problem with  _ dick, _ Sanzo?” Lelouch shot at the priest after adjusting to the monkey’s weight. 

“No problem, but no need for  _ that much _ ,” the blond grumbled back.

“The more dick, the merrier,” Seifer said, just to be contrary.

“And that’s the attitude that’s going to get you dead,” Sanzo fired back.

Seifer grinned, “Or I can just have  _ a lot  _ of Squall’s dick.”

“We’re not going to talk about my dick,” the sea witch warned coldly. 

“Even about how it’s not a fish dick?” Cupid teased.

_ “Mmm,”  _ Goku hummed, “Fish sticks…”

Jack snorted and dissolved into giggles, hiding his face in Pitch’s neck as if that would do any good.

Neither male atop the globe were quite as amused. In fact both were glaring at their respective lov--... partn--... person they came in with. 

“Guess you’ll never know,” Squall directed at Cupid, because he wasn’t doing himself any favors as far as getting the chance to find out. 

“That’s definitely a part of undine lore I’ve never heard,” Pitch chuckled as he wrapped an arm around Jack. 

“Well, they usually have vaginas, so there’s that,” Suzaku helpfully supplied.

Goku’s next pearl of wisdom dropped like a stone, “Are vaginas tasty?”

Fuuma  _ thoroughly  _ enjoyed the silence that followed, making sure to get a good look at everyone’s expressions because embarrassment looked almost as good on Jack as irritation did on Sanzo. 

The most interesting was probably Suzaku, who seemed just as curiously interested as Goku, and Mother Nature nearly laughed at the Blue Fairy’s deer-in-headlights look.

It was beautiful.

Fuuma was so proud of his son.

The way it broke was a masterpiece of art. Cupid and the Nightmare King clearing their throats simultaneously could not have been planned better. 

Fuuma delighted in how the two looked at each other just long enough to communicate with their gazes.    


Seifer’s clearly said,  _ “You  _ were gonna take this one? Really?”

And Pitch’s was more of a, “Are you sure you want to elaborate with your murdery fiance in the room?” 

Then Seifer snorted, which Fuuma chose to interpret as, “He’s not murdery  _ yet.”  _

Pitch just smirked and gestured with his hand, a challenge that said “Then by all means, flaunt just how much pussy you’ve eaten.” 

Which just made what Seifer finally, actually said  _ so  _ much more ironic, “Well, I was kind of fond of the  _ one  _ I willingly got that close to.”

Pitch huffed, having a pretty good idea of which  _ one  _ Seifer was referring to, “But would you describe it as  _ tasty _ ?” 

Fuck, that had been so long ago, Seifer wasn’t sure his memories could be  _ trusted  _ anymore. It didn’t help that every one was tainted with the bitter taste of betrayal. But for all the emotional issues surrounding that disaster, “I would have, I think. And I remember liking the smell. But then, Roman food…”

Fuuma outright laughed at that, “Tell me, Seifer, how many mice did you eat?”

“Too many. Fuck you.”

“Wait,” Jack interrupted, finally climbing out of his hole of embarrassment to continue his obnoxious ways, “you ate  _ mice?”  _

“They’re called the edible dormouse and they, yes, Dexter, were  _ tasty.”  _

“I know,” Goku shrugged, unconcerned, “I had some. Tell me more about the vaginas. I haven’t tried those.”

Sanzo’s eyebrow twitched. He knew Goku loved him and everything, but that endless curiosity would have been the death of him if anything could kill him anymore. Also, Sanzo did not appreciate the thought of Goku putting his mouth on anyone else like that, male or female. 

Irritably he lit another cigarette. 

That did nothing to prevent the conversation from progressing. It was time for the Nightmare King to offer his wisdom. “It depends on the person more than the gender, really. It isn’t all that different from sucking a man, only … more wet.” 

“Less sticky,” Seifer chuckled, as shameless as the God of Love could be, “Cleaning was a bitch, back then.”

Jack struggled to hold onto his smile. He never would have thought he could share feelings with Sanzo, but the Guardian found himself less than excited to hear more about Pitch’s, likely numerous, escapades. It would have been stupid of him to pretend they didn’t exist, though. And he was curious. And he didn’t want to put everyone in a bad mood, so he shoved a couple more cookies in his mouth, instead.

Goku was blinking owlishly at the King of Nightmares, eyes full of wonder, “So some guys don’t taste good? I kinda thought they had to, if Sanzo tasted so good.”

Pitch chuckled indulgently at the Earth child, as if he was reciting an enchanting bedtime story and not a raunchy bed _ room _ story. Knowing it was Fuuma’s child only made it seem more… appropriate? “I assure you, it’s your feelings for Sanzo that are affecting your perception. Personal hygiene and diet are also factors. Sometimes it doesn’t taste like much of anything at all.” Remembering recent events, the shadowman lightly trailed a hand down his boyfriend’s back before he added, “And if it does taste like something, it’s not necessarily for everyone.”

Jack’s skin prickled pleasantly in the wake of Pitch’s touch, but now he just felt  _ awful.  _ Here Pitch was with his apparently long list of ex-lovers, who probably had no problems at all sucking his cock, talking about how  _ good  _ people taste, and Jack still grimaced when he got come on his tongue. 

Just. Fuck.

“Rinoa always ate a lot of fruit because of that,” Seifer thoughtfully added, “convinced it made her taste sweet. She never tasted sweet and sometimes I wished she’d just eat the fucking ostrich and be done with it, but...” he sighed. 

“Ostrich is tasty,” Goku commiserated. 

Jack had to swallow and clear his throat a bit, but he finally found his voice enough to say, “There’s been a lot of sexpert research into that fruit thing, lately. Nothing really scientific, but everyone seems to agree pineapple works.”

Seifer gave him a flat look, “Yeah, we didn’t have those.”

Was that a hint? Pitch glanced down at the white mop of hair resting on him curiously. He certainly wasn’t making a point of keeping up with sexual research. Before Jack came along, it’d been many decades since he’d slept with anyone, but if that  _ was _ true, he’d be more than willing to eat as many pineapples as it took. 

Or maybe not, because that could get painful. It hardly mattered anyway. Pitch wouldn’t have traded his new relationship for anything. Whether or not Jack gave him head mattered so little on the spectrum when everything  _ else  _ Jack did, including cuddling up against him in a crowded bed with his cookies, made him happy. 

A gray hand rubbed idle circles into the fabric of the Guardian’s hoodie when he spoke up again, “Taste is one of the least important motivators for me. If Sanzo’s is really that good to you, you’re not missing out on anything.”

“That’s good to know,” Goku nodded, splaying out and somehow taking up even more room in the middle of the nest, “I’m glad, but I’m still gonna be curious, anyway.”

Seifer snorted in amusement, “We would expect nothing less of you, Dexter.”

Suzaku hummed and adjusted Goku’s foot on his stomach so it wasn’t digging in as painfully, then voiced the thoughts he’d been having since this topic came up, “I’m surprised you don’t know. You’ve been around as long as Seifer, right? You’ve never been with a woman at all?”

“Nope,” The monkey shrugged, “There’s been offers, but before Sanzo I was locked up, and after Sanzo… well, his eye does this little twitchy thing that usually means he’s not gonna feed me when I’m starving, and I like food and I don’t like making Sanzo upset, so I always say no.”

Only Squall had the vantage point of seeing Sanzo do that exact twitchy thing, but he wasn’t paying attention. The embers of the blond’s cigarette even seemed to burn brighter with his irritation the more he heard. One would have thought that after so many centuries together, Goku’s thinking might have matured to consider more factors than his fucking stomach. 

_ Nope.  _

He was about to snap at the little brat to go try some pussy and see where that got him when Lelouch had to butt in with an insightful question,

“Really? The promise of future food is the only thing that stops you?” 

“What do you mean?” Goku asked, lolling his head over to blink at the Blue Fairy, who should have been able to read his desires without the question. That was how he worked, right? Or maybe he was asking out loud for a different reason, “Food’s how Sanzo shows he loves me. Most of the time, anyway.” 

“If that’s the case… one might interpret your curiosity for other tastes as  _ dissatisfaction _ .”

The Monkey King looked at Lelouch like he was insane, “Who would do that?”

“He’s  _ my  _ son,” Mother Nature laughed, idly moving one foot to pet Goku’s leg where they happened to lie close enough, “and you expect him to conform to the average concepts of love and desire? You’re all adorable.”

Cupid poked Goku in the knee to get his attention, “To answer your question, a jealous lover would. Easily.”

“That’s crazy,” Goku breathed, an expression of sudden worry taking over his features, “There’s a  _ huge  _ difference between curiosity and desire. I don’t want anybody but Sanzo. I  _ never  _ want anybody but Sanzo. I  _ love  _ Sanzo!”

The Devil’s Advocate might as well have been Lelouch’s second name. ….Third name. ...Fourth name? “Because that’s where the food comes from?”

“I  _ told  _ you,” Goku said with no small amount of exasperation in his voice, “Food’s how Sanzo shows  _ he  _ loves  _ me!”  _

“Oh, oh!” Jack crowed, reaching over to smack Goku in the shoulder like he couldn’t get his attention any other way, “So it’s like, if Pitch refused to dance with me, or, uh,” the Guardian floundered for a second, looking over at Lelouch and the pile of lumberjack on his side, “if Suzaku slept on the couch? Outside of the tent? Um…”

“Right!” Goku’s eyes lit up with happiness at having found understanding in someone other than his mother. He loved Fuuma, but Fuuma was not the model of sanity. “I don’t like it when Sanzo stops feeding me. It means he’s sad. I don’t want him to be sad, anymore.”

Lelouch fixed Sanzo with one of his signature knowing smirks, which nearly earned him ashes in his fucking  _ face _ , but turned to Mother Nature instead, “Tell me, Fuuma. You made him. Is his heart  _ literally  _ in his stomach?”

“Of course not,” Fuuma  _ almost  _ sounded offended in his tone, but not really.

Goku nodded seriously, “I’ve seen it. My heart’s nowhere  _ near  _ there.”

Lelouch’s laugh was disbelieving, but amused, “I don’t think I can handle your level of dysfunction.” 

And neither could Sanzo really. “You idiots can talk about something else now.” 

Which they did. The following hour or so was filled with idle chatter, shared opinions, and hoarded cookies. It was inevitable, the way they started to nod off surrounded by plush cushions and warmth, good company and safety. Bellies satisfied and full of cookies, they languished in comfort until the caffeine slowly wore off and the sugar crashes tumbled in. As soon as the first went down, the rest slowly fell under the haze of sleep, until only Fuuma was left, and he thought the picture they made, huddled together above the blankets, was the definition of sweet serenity. 

Sanzo and Squall were less than pleased watching it happen, and then they shared a mutual moment of frustration at their lack of flying ability. Also a lack of enthusiasm for rock climbing. They may have wanted out of the lair to escape boredom, but not when it required  _ that  _ kind of work.

Fortunately, if there were ever two people that could appreciate a reprieve of relatively comfortable silence, it was the two perched atop the metal globe. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in the beginning was 'Kiss by a Rose' by Seal. (Because we're nineties babies, okay?) 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up at a more reasonable date. Stay tuned~


	7. Come on and Rise, If You Wanna Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We interrupt your regularly scheduled fluffy trash for ANGST, and CONFLICT. (It's not that bad, we promise.)
> 
> Smut added to preserve flavor. 
> 
> Warning: Processed in a facility that has a poor understanding of an Australian accent. 
> 
> Enjoy~ :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your wonderful kudos and comments as always~~

Weeks passed as cold and dark slowly fell into a more stable pattern of newlywed domesticity. Stable was a very loose term, as the only thing stable was the fact that one could count on the other to  _ be  _ there. Otherwise the food experiments continued, the prank war raged on, and Pitch was crossing off new sexual positions when he wasn’t  _ heavily  _ reviewing previous ones with his nimble lover. 

Pitch was also terribly fond of the way he kept managing to surprise his boyfriend. Everytime he heard that adolescently exaggerated  _ “Oh my God _ ” it brought such a pleased grin to his face, good  _ or  _ bad. 

Today he was aiming for good. He was bored waiting for Jack to return home when he was away doing his snow day thing, so Pitch put his hands to use by building. Jack seemed to like it when he built things. 

So now there was a new, giant steampunk clock hanging amongst the cages of his lair. It did seem to fit his decor… 

But it was Jack’s opinion that mattered, so when the young spirit came back, he was immediately captured in an embrace, kissed, and spun around to face the ceiling. 

“Well? How’s that?” the Boogeyman asked with a theatric wave of his arm. 

There was a brief, confused silence while Jack searched out what Pitch must have meant for him to find, and then a startled,  _ breathless  _ gasp of awe and wonder. 

He had totally forgotten that whole thing about Pitch needing a clock. Mostly because Pitch had good reasons for not having a clock, but…  _ Now.  _ Now he had a clock and that said  _ so much  _ without saying anything at all.

“Holy fuck…” Maybe not the most elegant opener upon returning home, but Jack hardly claimed to be elegant, so it was okay. “ _ Pitch…  _ Oh my God, you  _ built  _ it! You really…”

It wasn’t exactly often that Jack was rendered speechless, but he had no more words for his surprise and delight. Instead, he launched himself off of Pitch’s thighs and into the air, dying for a closer look. God, if only Jack had known the kind of  _ artist  _ the Nightmare King was back when they were at war over believers. Hell,  _ before  _ that. He was beginning to wish he’d met the Nightmare King the night he’d risen from his lake.

Except that they wouldn’t be the people they were if he had. As Jack traced the  _ snowflake _ -shaped gears his lover had carved just for him, he reflected on how grateful he was, and how grateful he might not know to be if he hadn’t spent three hundred years wishing whole-heartedly for this.

In a flash, Jack spun and dove back into the Nightmare King’s arms, hands and legs latching tight around the shade’s body, and a fierce kiss on his lips. He had his words back, but he didn’t want to free up his mouth to use them. “Pitch,” it was only an urgent, desperate need to tell his boyfriend what he wanted from him that made Jack gasp the words against Pitch’s skin,  _ “Take me.”  _

….  _ Well.  _

That probably ranked higher on the happy scale than the ‘Oh my God’. Also, Pitch was going to run out of ceiling space if that’s what happened every time he hung up a clock. Who could say no to an order like that from Jack Frost? 

Once he was over his own disbelief, those long arms were back around the Guardian and his feet were walking on autopilot towards their bed. Fingers started to creep up under the hem of Jack’s hoodie along the way, and he was so torn between responding or kissing the breath right out of the younger man… 

Alright that wasn’t as hard of a choice. Sealing their lips together, Pitch had his tongue plunged as deep into Jack’s mouth as he could reach and he didn’t allow either of them to come up for air until Jack was on his back, fully pinned beneath Pitch’s weight atop the plush cushions. 

“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a clock kink, but I’m game,” he chuckled, sounding out of breath himself. 

Jack was tearing off his hoodie and kicking out of his pants and couldn’t believe Pitch was making a joke right now, except it was kind of hot because  _ Jack  _ would like to be making a joke right now, if he wasn’t so turned on his brain couldn’t think of one. Pitch was so perfect for him.

So Jack grabbed the sides of his face and pulled the shadowman back down for another kiss, writhing underneath him to feel the friction of skin on skin. The  _ only  _ part of this that he regretted was that he hadn’t been there to watch Pitch build it. He looked beautiful and strong and capable when he created things with his hands, all the things Jack was not, and it was a slow, wonderful torture to lie back and wait for him to be done before Jack could relieve his need with thick, gray cock. 

“Bet you’ve never heard of a Pitch kink either, but I think I’ve got one of those, too,” and oh, look at that, apparently Jack’s brain could make jokes on autopilot.

Joke as it might have been, Pitch absolutely ate it up _.  _ It made his dark heart fucking flutter in his now bared chest and already he was conspiring on the next project to surprise his boyfriend with. He grinned with kiss darkened lips and smoothed his hands up pale hips and thighs that were so deliciously cool to the touch. 

“You’ve got more than the kink, Darling. You have the  _ whole package _ ,” the Nightmare King purred, diving down to worship one of Jack’s ears with little licks around the curve until he turned his head down to study the work of art the body was beneath him, “I swear, you get more and more gorgeous everytime I see you…” 

“Nu uh,” Jack argued, squirming happily in Pitch’s hold. He couldn’t really decide if he wanted to lean in with his ear, or buck up with his hips, or molest Pitch’s deliciously firm chest, or taste his sweet skin… Oh wait, those last two weren’t mutually exclusive. “You’re just more in love with me every time,” Jack concluded, eager to get it out before he made his mouth busy sucking on the Nightmare King’s pulse point.

It earned Jack a deep, pleased rumble of a moan. Those icy lips never failed to make Pitch’s whole body shiver no matter where they landed on him. Molten eyes fluttered closed as he leaned in closer to that mouth, but he continued his appreciation through touch, trailing fingertips along the Guardian’s inner thighs and encouraging them to spread wider, “It’s true. I’m thoroughly enchanted by you, Jack Frost.” 

_ “Mmm,  _ yes,” Jack moaned, obviously pleased, but also obviously fresh,  _ “polysyllabic words.”  _ He grinned, shameless, regretting nothing, and lifted his legs to settle his bare feet against Pitch’s lower back, toes plucking cheekily at Pitch’s waistband. 

Pitch bit at Jack’s ear for the snark. 

The toes at his waist were encouraging though. He honestly wondered if Jack was talented enough to remove his pants with  _ just  _ his toes. Would be pretty amazing. For now, he helped those adventurous digits by undoing the fastenings and then all his attention was on the pale collar bone he was nibbling at. “If you want me to shut up, you’ll have to do a better job,” he mumbled around a mouthful of skin. 

“I  _ don’t  _ want you to shut up. I was  _ serious,”  _ Jack snickered, working his feet into Pitch’s pants and groping his ass with happy toes before pushing the fabric down his thighs, “It’s hot how you get all eloquent sometimes. Hilarious too, but still,  _ hot.”  _

Suddenly Pitch was a lot less bitey, and a lot more ...kissy and licky making his way down the other male’s chest. Jack’s heart might have been as cold as a summer sun in spite of his title, but it still meant something to the shade that he had the ability to light a fire in the young frost Guardian. Steadily he’d been shaving off the time it took to get Jack hard when they started fooling around. Yes, he was idly keeping track. 

And now he even had a clock to help him. 

Pitch took a small break to kick his pants off the rest of the way, feeling the ghost of those toes over his ass. He hadn’t forgotten his desire to lick them one of these days, but right now he wanted as much skin to skin contact as possible. The Nightmare King lowered himself back onto his lover with their hips lined up as he took the opposing pair of lips in yet another heavy kiss. Another kiss interrupted by words. “You just like my accent.” 

“I  _ do  _ like your accent,” Jack laughed, tossing his head back in amusement. Pitch’s voice was kind of addicting. It was the kind that could lull you to sleep or turn you on with just a difference in tone and oh,  _ fuck,  _ he wanted this man inside him. It was a good thing his boyfriend was in the habit of humoring him, because Jack wasn’t sure throwing all of his weight into Pitch’s shoulders would have rolled them over otherwise. 

He came up straddling the man he was in love with, then scuttled back along his body until he had full access to that  _ thick, gray cock  _ he adored oh, so much. He probably could have asked for lube, but fuck it, sucking Pitch was way more fun.

That was a surefire way to keep the Boogeyman talking but there was no guarantee it would be polysyllabic. Or words at all. Pitch adored the enthusiasm though; he knew Jack still had a hang up or two about blowjobs and yet, that in no way stopped him from testing the waters again and again. It was like Jack  _ wanted  _ to acquire a taste for his dick, and  _ Gods  _ if that wasn’t a huge turn on. 

But it really pushed the limits of his patience. Pitch had it in his mind that they  _ had  _ to go at Jack’s pace for this every time, so he did his best to keep his hips still and his hands curled into the cushions. He almost needed to close his eyes too, but allowed himself the torture of watching and feeling himself swell up that much harder. “ _ Nngh _ … Oh  _ Jack _ …”

It wasn’t nearly as big a deal to Jack, who was just doing what he wanted. And what he wanted was to slick Pitch’s dick so he could ride it already, except Jack suffered the terrible misfortune that was accidentally freezing the liquid he needed for this. He was just too damn excited and it was with a laugh after his third attempt, at covering most of Pitch’s dick with his mouth and rubbing enough that friction really should have helped, that he held out a hand and asked for the lube already.

The amount of time it took for Pitch to comprehend what Jack was asking for was a bit embarrassing.    


Jack may have not been getting what he wanted sucking him off, but it was  _ absolutely  _ working for the shadowman, freezing and all. The cold only meant the best of pleasures, as his body was coming to learn. His hands were unsteady from trembly little aftershocks so he used a shadowy tendril to deliver the half-used container of lube. ….Yeah they’d been busy for the past few weeks. 

The Guardian eagerly snatched up the lube and immediately noticed frost forming on the sides. Rolling his eyes at himself, Jack merely popped the cap and liberally poured it right over Pitch’s dick, since his hands obviously could not be trusted. If only frozen shit was not also solid. 

He  _ could  _ prep himself some, but by now he was fairly used to the feeling and half-convinced he was going to freeze the lube with his ass cheeks anyway, so he tossed the lube aside, straddled Pitch’s lap, and went for it. After all the unintended cold, Jack indulged in the  _ burn.  _

Pitch wasn’t ready for the jump. They were skipping so many steps here, and while he didn’t like to think of his sex as formulaic, at least not with  _ Jack _ , the young spirit was  _ still _ just … just so damn  _ tight.  _ Gods… 

How the fuck was he supposed to gently ease into his lover’s body after just being in his amazing mouth and remember how to  _ breathe  _ properly? 

With his head craned all the way back and golden eyes barely open, Pitch tried grabbing onto Jack’s hips as if he had any chance of slowing him down, “Damnit Jack, I swear if you hurt yourself…” It was supposed to sound scolding, but it ended up coming out as a rambly moan. 

Jack laughed, slowing down as Pitch slid deeper, because he was bold, not stupid, “Then you’d cuddle me for days and bring me breakfast in bed. Nothing new, Pumpkin.” 

“And I’d feel guilty for hurting you with my dick and go back to restraining myself and  _ then  _ where would we be?” Pitch was arguing it, but he was also slowly raising his hips up off the bedding to connect them even deeper. 

Jack let him get away with that for a bit, but pinned Pitch to the bed and took control back a moment later, “As if you could resist giving me what I want, now.”

In spite of the way he groaned and surrendered by laying back down flat, “Don’t test me, Frost. You’ll regret it.” 

“I’m not; I’m taking you how I want you,” Jack replied, settling their hips snugly together and squirming to make sure everything felt the way it should. Then he bounced, which, oh  _ fuck, _ that was good, made him breathless, “Isn’t that what you want me to do?”

“ _ Hnn _ .. Oh fuck,  _ fine _ ,” the shade distractedly resigned, “Have it  _ your _ way.” But his resignation was punctuated with a sharp jerk of his hips, up and sudden, to make Jack bounce again. 

There was no reason to fight it; Jack wanted to move too. He’d gotten pretty good at this and it was mostly instinct now, instinct and naked desire. His head fell back as he basked in the feeling of Pitch’s cock filling him again and again, craving the closeness as desperately as he always did,  _ “Hnn,  _ will do, Sugar.”

A brat till the end, but he was  _ Pitch’s  _ brat, and there were no words to describe the bliss of being inside him. As they fell into a steady rhythm, gray hands started roaming over pale skin again; the outside deserved just as much of his attention as in. Pitch brought one of Jack’s hands up towards his face where he could place a kiss against the palm, muffling the deep moan building in the back of his throat. “You feel so good, Jack…” 

The touch brought Jack’s attention back to where he could watch Pitch’s expression as he rode him. Oh God, it was so hot. So hot that Jack could not help himself when he snatched up Pitch’s other hand, kissed that palm in turn, then placed it pointedly around his own dick, leaving a gentle layer of frost over the back of the shade’s hand. 

...Jack couldn’t help it if he wasn’t  _ quite  _ as romantic as his boyfriend.

That was okay, because Pitch was grinning anyway. He indulgently wrapped his long fingers around that chilled erection because Jack was likely ninety-nine percent right- he  _ couldn’t  _ resist the young Guardian. Whatever he wanted was offered up with a silver platter and  _ flair _ because Pitch had it bad, and it was only made worse with every passing second of having those blue eyes on him with such rapt desire. 

They weren’t close enough for the Boogeyman’s liking. 

While Jack was pulling away, Pitch suddenly surged up into a sitting position so their chests were pressed together. He squeezed his boyfriend’s cock, wrapped his free arm tight around a slim waist, then pulled the Guardian just as suddenly all the way back down on his lap. 

Jack cried out, because there was just something about the surprise of unexpected pleasure that made it  _ better,  _ but damn it, Jack didn’t want it like this right now. It was good,  _ so good,  _ but Pitch had eternity to fuck him like this later. And he would, of course, but when it was Pitch’s turn to be in charge. 

So the frostling planted both hands against his boyfriend’s chest and pushed, laying him flat across the cushions again. But he didn’t stop there, because  _ apparently  _ his boyfriend needed more distraction if he was going to let Jack stay on top. So the Guardian of Fun got to it, following Pitch down and latching his teeth around a dark nipple. Time to make  _ Pitch  _ scream.

Pitch enjoyed the tumble, and he would have easily rolled them both over again for a few hard bucks into that ass, but-- “ _ Ah! _ ” but the Nightmare King was effectively pinned beneath Jack’s strategically placed teeth. At least they were still close, so Pitch allowed it to carry on. He wasn’t sure if the frostling really wanted to be on top or was just being a rebellious forever-teen, but he certainly didn’t mind laying back for a while, drinking in all the cold but oh so pleasurable sensations flooding his body. It was charming that Jack was keeping mental notes of his  _ spots _ … 

But it still made him squirm, and squirming meant more rolling and swirling of his hips, blindly searching for a certain spot from his  _ own  _ notes. 

Jack clenched his thighs together, trying to keep his asshole of a boyfriend  _ still  _ so he could ride him faster. Pitch was going to slip  _ out  _ at this rate, and this was why he couldn’t have nice things. He smacked Pitch in the side, biting down harder to try and make him  _ behave,  _ although he held no delusions that it was actually going to work. 

But, if Jack was honest, he was having  _ fun  _ and it felt so  _ good,  _ so he didn’t  _ really  _ care. 

Pitch hissed in the utmost delight, lower body taking a break so he could arch his chest up despite the mixed signals Jack was giving him. Why was he getting smacked? This was no time for smacking while they were  _ fucking _ …. His response was to let his hand wander down and give Jack’s ass a good squeeze along with the head of his dick, and he didn’t let  _ go _ . His breathy question came next, “What are you fighting me for, Snow Angel?” 

Jack was a groaning mess, panting against Pitch’s chest, but he still managed to reply, licking his lips and moving across to the other nipple to give it some attention, too, “Because you keep trying to take charge, Shadowman. It’s  _ my  _ turn.”

There was an audible hitch of breath when Jack’s cold lips made contact. Fuck, his boyfriend had the perfect mouth for attacking his chest. A perfect mouth period, no matter what point it was trying to make.

He loosened the fist around the Guardian and started pumping him at a slow pace directly opposite to what Jack was trying to accomplish on his own cock. It was probably the only thing keeping him from putting all his energy into fucking the brat  _ hard  _ from below. “You’re adorable, Jack. Just wait until it’s my turn again…” 

“Gonna be waiting a while if you’re going  _ that  _ slow…”

_ That  _ Pitch had to laugh at. “Make up your mind, Darling. What do you want from me?” 

With a gasp, Jack pushed himself up and stared down at Pitch with a stern expression, but an amused twinkle to his eyes, “I want you to lay still and let me fuck myself on your thick, gray cock like a  _ good _ boyfriend, pump my cock like it’s your only purpose in life, and  _ scream.”  _

Then he laid down to get back to biting and rolled his hips like he’d never stopped.

But it had Pitch moaning like it was the very first trip down. Jack certainly had a way with words, even if he  _ was  _ asking for him to be nothing more than a glorified dildo that made noise. If that’s what he wanted though… 

Of course there was a show to enjoy for himself watching Jack ride his dick like he’d fall apart without it. Sadly, he couldn’t see his lover’s face from this angle, so he decided to play along and move his fist up and down Jack’s cock as rapid as his wrist would allow. “As you wish, my Prince.” 

“Nngh,  _ ahh…”  _ The mocking pet name wasn’t even that offensive when Pitch’s hand was  _ finally  _ getting to work like that. Jack swallowed thickly, hips helplessly rocking into that tight fist and onto that stiff cock on the way down; it was fucking  _ glorious.  _ His cold fingers were distractedly clawing into the Nightmare King’s skin, and it was too much effort to close his mouth when he felt like  _ this,  _ so he just panted and whined and hissed,  _ “Yes…”  _

Well alright, maybe there  _ was  _ more to being a glorified dildo. Pitch’s eyes and ears were immediately honed in on Jack’s obvious pleasure, it almost didn’t register that blunt fingernails were digging into him for the way his cock twitched and pulsed. Gods, he just wanted to give him  _ more. Jack  _ was the one that should have been screaming… 

Fuck, and he knew exactly how he’d do it too, exactly how he’d roll them over, get into just that right angle and pound into the spirit like they only had one night together left. But the Guardian didn’t even want him to  _ move _ and it was torture but also a bit of a turn on and he couldn’t help the way his legs flexed along the sheets, resisting the urge to push up from the balls of his feet. “ _ Jack _ …” 

“Pitch,” the frostling whimpered in return, hands creeping into more stable positions so he could push himself down harder on his boyfriend’s cock.  _ Now  _ he was getting somewhere. Now it was  _ perfect.  _ Now his spine was turning to jelly and his toes were tingling and he had to fight to keep his eyes open, to keep Pitch, wonderful, beautiful,  _ sexy  _ Pitch, in sight, “Oh God,  _ Pitch…”  _

The Boogeyman nearly snapped hearing his name and the next noise out of him sounded increasingly desperate. Pitch  _ couldn’t  _ just lie still, he’d need to be literally tied down, because he  _ had  _ to let his hips jump up for Jack, help him move faster, descend deeper, collide even  _ harder _ . It felt  _ incredible _ , and it took a good five thrusts before he tried to settle down again but he  _ really  _ didn’t want to settle down. “ _ Fuck, _ Jack…”

_ “Nn, _ fuck, Pitch, just like that,” the Guardian really hadn’t meant for his instructions to be taken that literal, but if that was the only way to get Pitch to let him lead, well… But now, he wanted to come, and his boyfriend had always been very good at making that happen. “God, Pitch, I’m so close…”

Pitch could only interpret that as much needed  _ permission.  _ Limitations gone, the shade grunted in unrestrained lust, working Jack’s cock in a frenzy while he gripped his lover’s waist with enough pressure to bruise in the vain hopes of stability. Long legs bent and gray feet pressed flat against the bedding so he could thrust up with abandon into that miraculously slick hole. It was hard to think about aiming when he was so focused on the end game, “Come on, Jack,” he ground out between breaths, “Come… I want to watch you… Show me everything.” 

As if Jack could hide it. His arms were trembling with the effort of holding him up, pleasure making his body unreliable, erratic in his search for more. Words of encouragement mixed with begging fell from his lips in an ongoing prayer of worship and praise, growing louder and louder until the wave crested and Jack froze, eyes falling shut when sensation took him over.

Gods, and it was  _ so  _ fucking beautiful.

All those slim, straining muscles, the dark of Jack’s eyelashes against his skin, the way his white hair was magically  _ more  _ tousled after all that rocking up and down… Fuck, the Nightmare King was still so  _ hard.  _

His come covered hand slowed to an idle stroking, really making more of a mess than anything, and as much as he wanted to keep forcing Jack up and down, Pitch made due just rolling, hopefully prolonging Jack’s pleasure as it was giving him some much needed friction. He didn’t dare break this intimate moment, or the purely angelic vision his lover made right now. 

Angelic he may look, but that wasn't how he sounded when Jack collapsed bonelessly to Pitch's chest and groaned indulgently, declaring, "Alright, you can roll me over and fuck me, now."

Pitch laughed affectionately, raising his clean hand to Jack’s hair for petting, “Sure about that? I have no problem letting you rest.” 

"You say that like it's hard work getting fucked," Jack snickered, then shook his head, "I like how it feels. Go ahead. I want you to come."

Pitch was hard pressed to argue. If asked, of course he would pull out and take care of his own problem, but if Jack was going to  _ let  _ him stay buried deep inside… 

He was at least careful with the rolling over while they were still attached, making sure Jack was set comfortably on pillows as he arranged those pale legs over his waist. Then he was bracing himself over his recovering boyfriend, claiming those lips in a sensual kiss when he started to move. 

This probably wasn’t going to take long, but part of him wished it would. 

Pitch was  _ so  _ much more romantic than he was, Jack reflected as those lips caressed his and Pitch  _ gently  _ moved within him. Such a gentleman. At least to his lover; he was a total asshole to the Guardians but Jack would be upset if he was  _ romantic  _ with the Guardians so there was that.

Jack took the opportunity to explore Pitch’s body without worrying about having to move anything else, hands lightly ghosting over his muscles and into his hair and around his back… The innocence was lost almost immediately though, when they encountered those nippes again. Then he was playing rough and with obvious purpose. 

Who could blame him? He was Jack Frost.

Pitch certainly didn’t blame him, mostly because he  _ couldn’t.  _ The fingers on his chest were just the cherry on top to turn his brain to mush, and with a rush of a moan, all of those careful movements flew out the window. Now he was biting at Jack’s lips, tugging, sharp teeth trailing further down a snow white neck and thrusting morphing into a true  _ pounding.  _ He was allowed to be done with being patient, right? All he wanted to do now was climax and  _ claim  _ his lover all over again. 

“ _ Mine, _ ” he hissed into beautifully soft skin before an exceptionally hard jerk, and then he was coming, groaning deeply as his release tore out of his body and into Jack’s. 

It was  _ so hot.  _ Jack was a little sensitive, but fuck it, because  _ that was so hot.  _ For a spirit that had been largely ignored for three hundred years, being wanted  _ that bad  _ was a fucking drug. Feeling the undeniable touch, the connection between them, was a high for Jack, and he was just young enough to really get lost in that kind of thing. 

So it was with a sated, sleepy smile that Jack ran his fingers through Pitch’s hair and returned the sentiment,  _ “Yours.”  _

It may have been the sweetest thing for Jack to say to him as he came back down to Earth, smothering the other spirit with his full body weight while he panted into the crook of his lover’s neck. “Mine,” Pitch croaked out again with a wide smile, still not fully aware of himself yet.

“Just so long as you’re mine, too,” Jack teased with a playful grin, twirling Pitch’s hair around his fingers innocently.

“ _ Mmm _ ,” Pitch exaggerated his agreement, nuzzling against Jack’s skin and sliding his fingertips along one of the arms wrapped around him, “For eternity.” 

Jack laughed, suddenly wrapping those arms so much tighter around the man he loved, “You don’t have to woo me; I’m already in the bed.”

“I like wooing you,” the Nightmare King admitted with uninhibited honesty, half muffled by Jack’s wonderful affection, “I like making you happy.” 

Letting his eyes fall closed, Jack turned his head to nuzzle against Pitch and quietly confess into his ear, “I am happy.”

It sent the most pleasant shiver down Pitch’s spine, he was practically purring into Jack’s skin, “Then I’m going to make sure you stay happy for as many of those ticking seconds as you spend here,” he mumbled with a roll of his shoulders, a lazy gesture towards his latest creation on the ceiling. 

Was that a pun? Jack couldn’t tell if that counted as a pun, but it was still… sweetly corny, anyway, and Jack loved it and loved Pitch for being so flamboyant. Jack wouldn’t have nearly as much fun with this if Pitch wasn’t just as silly as the Guardian of Fun. This was suddenly a thing Jack felt Pitch should know, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jack,” the Nightmare King answered readily, followed by a few soft kisses along the winter spirit’s jaw, “I didn’t think I could feel this much for anyone.” 

“I never thought anyone would feel this much for me,” Jack answered somberly, snuggling down as if he needed Pitch’s weight above him to reassure himself that it was real, and maybe he did. “I don’t really understand how we got here.”

Pitch only picked himself up enough so he could look directly into such clear, blue eyes and cup the side of Jack’s face, “But here we are. Even after my rather humiliating defeat… I don’t think I would change anything if it meant losing this.” 

Those words meant a lot to Jack, enough that they lightened his heart to the point that he could freely snort his amusement at the reminder. The frostling swallowed his laughter, blinked to steady his gaze, then solemnly proclaimed in his most  _ serious  _ voice, “How  _ dare  _ I have fun in your presence.”

It was so insolently mocking, but Pitch still found himself laughing. Maybe if he hadn’t just finished fucking the Guardian, he would have had a more biting retort, but his dick was still  _ in  _ Jack and he kind of liked it that way. “Yes, I definitely could have done  _ without  _ the snowball in the face. I had so many monologues prepared for those moments…” 

“I  _ bet  _ you did!” Jack laughed louder, helplessly amused by the thought of Pitch spending countless years prepping a bunch of dramatic speeches about ruining Easter, because seriously, if he had had  _ anything  _ else to do with his time…

Which sobered Jack right back up, because all Pitch had wanted was something else to do with his time, and no one would give it to him. The way all Jack wanted was someone to acknowledge him, to appreciate him, and all anyone seemed willing to do was think about what Jack could or could not do for them, and if he fell short, well…

“I’m sorry,” the Guardian said suddenly, tracing Pitch’s cheekbone with his fingertips, “You just wanted our attention and I…” Jack shrugged, “well, I’m just too damn good at my job, I guess. We completely ignored you.”

Pitch didn’t seem too wholly concerned about it, leaning into Jack’s cool touch and closing his eyes. Thinking back to Antarctica still stung, and part of him did wonder what things might have been like if Jack  _ hadn’t  _ rejected him, but… he was pretty fond of what the future looked like for him presently. 

Besides, even though Jack turned him down, he still  _ understood  _ and that was how he’d ended up drawn back to the lair. The lair that had become his home. Pitch was beyond happy that he’d been so  _ right  _ about the spirit lying beneath him. “It’s something we’re used to,” he shrugged, turning to kiss his lover’s fingers, “I have your attention  _ now. _ ” 

Despite the melancholy tone, Jack found himself chuckling, because, “You sure do,” he agreed, wiggling his hips where Pitch was pinning them, “Mind having my attention just a little less? My butt’s a little…” Jack mimed wincing, saying what he didn’t have words for with his expression.

No more words were necessary. Pitch was up and moving, and slowly pulling out before that wince could be on Jack’s face any longer. Lovingly he ran his hand up and down the length of one of the Guardian’s legs and placed a little kiss near his knee, “I’m sorry. You should have told me sooner.” 

“I didn’t want you to move,” Jack shrugged. That small discomfort really was small next to the need for closeness he still couldn’t shake. “You’re not the only one who craves cuddles, and now you’re so far away,” the Guardian pouted.

Pitch was more than willing to fall back down splayed all over Jack’s welcoming body, his face pressed up snug and obnoxious into his boyfriend’s, “Don’t worry. I’ll never be very far away from you, my Snow Angel.”

Voice as flat as Jack could make it, he accused, “You stalk me in my shadow, don’t you?”

Pitch smirked unashamed, “Only sometimes.” 

“You’re awful,” Jack grinned, mask breaking because it could never last long around Pitch, “It’s a good thing I’m in love with you.”

Whether he thought he was ‘making up’ for his behavior or just being his affectionate self, Pitch was back to scattering soft kisses along Jack’s throat, lingering where his pulse would be, “It’s only when you’re away from me for too long. ….But really, it’s for our war.” 

Jack's hands were cupping the Nightmare King's face like he was some precious jewel.  _ Anything _ for the war. "You have all the permission you'll ever need to stalk me."

“Hmm,” Pitch felt a little bit precious just then and it felt rather nice, “Good luck convincing the Guardians of that.”

"We'll find a way," Jack assured him. They had forever. The Guardians couldn't pretend Pitch was just out to get him after a few decades of domestic bliss, right? "And it's my choice, anyway."

“It is your choice.” A fact that Pitch remembered daily, every time he woke up with Jack at his side. “Warn me if I ever get too boring for you so you never change your mind.” 

Jack snorted. He had no poker face. "I'm kind of easy to read; I'm sure you'll notice. And then hit me with a snowball that has spiders in it or something."

“Well you can’t  _ expect  _ the spiders,” Pitch grumbled in a tone that meant he was already plotting at least five different back-up methods of winning Jack’s heart back if he ever needed to, “Maybe mutant spider-lizards or something…”

"Spider-lizards?!" Jack cried incredulously. His life would never be boring, but dear God, was that a good thing?... "What the fuck would that even look like?!"

Pitch smiled a dangerous looking smile. It wasn’t an ‘Oh-my-God’ but still enough to make him just a bit giddy. “Looks like you’ll find out when you get bored.” 

The frostling groaned, because that was the only reasonable response when you were just promised the up-close acquaintance of mutant spider-lizards in your future. "Jesus, Pitch..."

Pitch laughed before he leaned in to take Jack’s lips in a heavy kiss, hoping to ease some of that ...creeping anxiety? He was the master of fear for a reason. “Relax,” he purred when he released them, “Right now the only thing I want to throw at you is my unending love and affection.” 

"I like your unending love and affection," Jack purred, voice smooth with the ease of comfort. Pitch's kisses could be lullabies after sex. He licked his lips and sighed, "I guess I'll just have to stay busy, not bored."

“ _ Happy, _ ” Pitch corrected with a rush of air near his frostling’s ear, loving his tone of voice right now, “Happy is the intended goal here.”

Jack grinned, lining up their noses so he could meet Pitch’s glowing gaze when he teased, “My kinda busy’s nothing but  _ fun.”  _

“I have no doubt of that,” Pitch chuckled, doing one better and lining up their foreheads that he pressed together, “And how was that  _ business  _ you took care of today, hm? Did you have fun?” 

Jack’s smile grew impossibly larger, “I did! Snow days everywhere! I kicked up a pretty big storm in New England, but just got kids out of school in Canada.” His expression suddenly turned thoughtful, even pressed up against Pitch the way it was, “Three hundred years and I still just think of the whole thing as,  _ ‘Canada…’”  _

Pitch couldn’t fight the smile listening to Jack’s boyish enthusiasm. It was adorable. Adorable enough that he also didn’t fight the way he wanted another kiss and tilted his head to steal a soft one. “I think that’s common for those of us residing in this country. Did the children see you?” 

“More than ever,” Jack answered with obvious excitement, “I couldn’t stay and play with all of them, obviously, but some kids have definitely been psyching the rest into believing in me because I swear, they were like tiny  _ cults  _ of Jack Frost and it was  _ amazing.”  _

Golden eyes were still glittering with amusement, but there was still part of the defeated Boogeyman that felt envious. The closest he’d ever been to a  _ cult  _ were his own Nightmares and well… everyone knew how far that got him. “I’m happy for you Jack. That you’re finally getting what you’ve always wanted.”

There was a bittersweet twist to Jack’s smile as he wormed his arms around Pitch’s neck and clung, “It’s only because of you. Because you dared to  _ misbehave.  _ I wanted the kids to see me, sure, but only because I wanted  _ anyone  _ to see me. I wanted someone to answer back with a smile. Fuck, I would have taken a, ‘Hey, how’s it goin’?’ from the  _ moon  _ if he would’ve given it to me. Tiny Jack Frost cults are hilarious, but they aren’t what I’ve always wanted.  _ You  _ give me that.”

Pitch was struck by Jack’s reasoning, that in the end his rebellion could be taken as something ...unintentionally romantic. That after all was said and done, Jack didn’t hold it against him. Maybe if the Sandman hadn’t returned, those feelings would be different but as it stood, Jack was sleeping in the bed of his one-time enemy and enjoying every damn minute of it. 

It was possibly  _ the worst  _ deterrent ever to change his “evil” ways. What were a few weeks of humiliation and crippling fear when the fair Prince would wind up in your arms at the end? “I’ll make sure to misbehave more often then.” 

“Just don’t do anything  _ I  _ wouldn’t do,” the Guardian laughed, “But all I want you to do is talk to me. It’s a bonus that you  _ love  _ me, but I could have been happy with just the regular dose of acknowledgement.”

“You’ve nothing to worry about, Darling. The trouble comes with trying to shut me  _ up _ .” 

“I know!” Jack crowed like that was the  _ best thing ever,  _ and kicked his legs up higher around Pitch’s waist in happy abandon. “I’ve never talked so much in my life and God, Pitch, I’m just so  _ happy…”  _

Damn… And feeling Jack’s legs hike up around him just made desire stir in his loins. Pitch only made it worse when he had his hand traveling down Jack’s body, trailing ticklish touches along the outside of one of his legs. “Me too, Jack. Me too.” 

The frostling slowly let his legs fall to the sheets, pressing his toes into the sides of Pitch’s legs all the way down, “I still don’t know how we happened; how we’re so  _ perfect.  _ How, if we make this much  _ sense  _ together, we didn’t  _ find  _ each other before last Easter. How it just took…  _ talking  _ and everything  _ changed.” _

“Mmm,” Pitch shivered pleasantly as those cold toes made their way down. His hand followed the leg’s descent and paid a little attention to the back of Jack’s knee, “I did  _ try  _ to explain to you that nothing goes better together than cold and dark, even if you didn’t take me seriously.”

Jack shook his head, “I mean  _ before  _ that. When I was pointlessly screaming at the moon. When I couldn’t get past the yetis and Bunny did nothing more than curse me as he ran by. Where were  _ you?” _

Pitch’s touches slowed to a stop, reminiscing. Jack did have a point considering his lair was not all that far away from the lake. “Working on corrupting dream sand into nightmare sand, mostly. Or I was under beds trying to reclaim as much power as possible. I was so very wrapped up in my plans and revenge, it didn’t occur to me to seek out potentially new companionship.”

"It didn't occur to you after, either," the Guardian pointed out, "That was my doing. But you obviously knew about me. You called me out by name in Tooth's palace."

“I admired your work from afar, but we never crossed paths officially. Each of the few times I saw you from the shadows, you were very engrossed in your art. I did always wonder why you were alone though.”

Jack shrugged. He did get pretty involved in his storms. "I was alone because you never said hi."

“Are you going to hold it against me, as you hold it against the Guardians?”

Jack shook his head. Pitch was hardly alone in ignoring him, and at least he hadn't actively made Jack feel bad about who he was and what he did. Jack would be angry all the time if he held grudges about those three hundred years. Every other spirit merely had their own life to live. No one had time for Jack. No one.

But Pitch did now.  _ Now  _ Jack was the Nightmare King’s whole world and, the mess on his hand aside, he curled his arms up and around the young spirit’s shoulders to hold him close. “I wish I could have soothed your pain and loneliness, Jack, feeling the way that I do now. But as I said, I also wouldn’t change anything that would affect what we have.” He paused to lightly kiss the Guardian’s forehead, “Who knows if you ever would have fallen for me if there were no Nightmares for you to catch me dancing with.”

Jack giggled at the reminder. He knew what Pitch was doing, and he appreciated the effort even if he didn't need it. "I know, Pumpkin. I wouldn't change it, either. I just..." He shrugged again, "I can't help but think about it, wonder. Things could have been so different and..."

Pitch was strangely reminded of their last encounter with Goku, the difference between curiosity and desire. As amusing as he’d thought Sanzo’s discomfort was, now he could relate. “Is there something in particular that you wish was different? Other than those lonely years, of course. I know you’d prefer it if I got on with your Guardian friends, but Jack…”

Jack was frantically shaking his head, because no, no, no, no,  _ no _ . He did  _ not _ want Pitch doubting them. Not even about the Guardian thing, because Jack kind of  _ liked _ how Pitch didn't get on with them because  _ Jack _ didn't totally get on with them either, and it was just one more thing they could relate about.

"Nonono, Pitch, Baby, you're perfect. You're perfect for me," Jack cooed, hands alternately clutching at the back of the Nightmare King's neck and petting the side of his face, brushing loose strands of hair back daintily, "I love you."

Pitch lavished in the attention and the words. No one ever referred to him as perfect and he never dreamed he’d hear it so  _ often.  _ Jack gave him so much light in his dark life, he hated to think he brought more darkness to Jack’s. Even if that’s who he  _ was _ . “I love you too. I love everything about you,” Pitch smiled, “Even your wistful curiosity.”

“I wouldn’t change anything,” Jack continued, fingers idly playing with Pitch’s ear, “I know that my time alone is part of who I am. I wouldn’t want to change  _ me,  _ and there’s nothing we could do even if I did, so…”

Pitch faithfully leaned, almost  _ slumped _ really, into Jack’s touch. The ear-play was  _ not  _ helping him reign in his lust and his cock was starting to twitch where it was lying in the mess on Jack’s stomach. His lover was just too much of a temptation, especially when he was going on about just how happy he was to be here. But Pitch would do his best to play along with the conversation. “You just can’t help but ponder the what-if’s. S’understandable…”

Except Jack’s stomach had nerve endings and it could feel the twitching just as well. He eyed Pitch flatly, even if his amusement was plain as day, “Do existential crisis turn you on?”

Caught red-handed again. Oh well. Pitch didn’t look the slightest bit guilty with his growing smirk, and the almost sleepy way he was gazing at the Guardian, “Not particularly, but your fingers and toes do.”

“My toes?” Jack asked, disbelief on the edge of his tone. As if he needed the emphasis, his feet slid up to lie flat against Pitch’s legs and he wiggled his toes into the backs of Pitch’s knees.

It had the delightful effect of sending another shiver up his spine, more powerful than the last with the bit of anticipation thrown in. Pitch chuckled softly and rubbed slow circles into Jack’s skin around his shoulder blades. “You’re very dextrous with them. They might as well be another set of hands.”

“They’re not  _ that  _ good,” Jack shook his head with laughter in his voice, running his fingers through Pitch’s hair since sensual pleasures were apparently doing it for him right now, “I can’t twirl my staff between my toes.”

There was a notable pause before Jack shrugged with a sheepish smile, “I tried.”

“You’re adorable,” Pitch laughed, nestling down into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck so Jack could pet and rile him up all he wanted. In return, one of his hands reached down along the Guardian’s leg, fingers tracing over the raise of his ankle, “I bet you could twirl it between your feet at least.”

“Well, yeah,” Jack… caught himself only just before he scoffed. Most people didn’t run around barefoot, fidgeting with a piece of wood all day. Jack was weird and this wasn’t as obvious as it seemed to him. “...It’s not the same as my hands, but I can get it spinning.”

Pitch made an agreeable sound, because he absolutely believed Jack could do it, but he was suddenly taken with the urge to suck on Jack’s neck so that was what he was doing with his mouth.

Which meant that, as much as Jack tried to stay alert enough to continue their conversation, somehow still thinking Pitch cared about what he had to say, he was inevitably drawn into a pleasant haze where real thought escaped him and all that came out of his mouth was a low, indulgent moan.

Pitch really liked that sound. Jack had such a beautiful voice, and he wanted to spend the rest of forever exploring each pitch and tone it was capable of. Especially those pleasured  _ screams  _ he was often rewarded with.

Again, his hand was on the move, caressing Jack’s foot, the tips of rounded nails just barely grazing the surface of the bridge. He pulled away from his latest mark on Jack’s skin with a wet little noise, only made worse when he dragged his tongue over it twice, and murmured in his own bedroom voice, “I’m sorry. I know It’s rude to interrupt, but I want you…”

“Nngh,” Jack acknowledged the best he could. He was shivering all over, but hardly enough to move. It was a sensation more than a physical effect and the Guardian was understandably overwhelmed. He was still sensitive from the last round. Which made him equal parts excited and worried for his ass.

That instinct for joking took the words Jack meant to say and turned them ironically mocking even while his tone remained earnest, and Jack didn’t even realize until they left his mouth, “Take me gently.”

That didn’t sound like a joke to Pitch; that was an open invitation he was about to literally jump on with a fully hard dick, but previous experience held him back. Jack’s stamina was still a project in progress after all.

Nosing his way up, Pitch delicately nibbled on the lobe of one ear before speaking directly into it, “I want to. I want to feel you all around me, but aren’t you sore, my dear?”

“Mm hm,” Jack confirmed lazily. That didn’t seem like such a problem right now, if Pitch went slow. “So?”

“So I don’t want to hurt you, of course,” Pitch assured with scattered kisses, landing on Jack’s shoulder, “We have other options. There are so many ways I can make you come…”

...That woke Jack up a little more, “I’m sure I’m in favor of all of them.”

A sharky grin was on the Nightmare King’s lips hearing his boyfriend’s compliance. His trust was so precious and Pitch would only reward it with good things, which apparently started with painting his tongue over one of Jack’s nipples, “I think I’d like to taste you.  _ All  _ of you.”

Unbidden, Jack’s body jerked up against Pitch’s tongue, seeking more whether Jack had the energy for it or not,  _ “God,  _ yes.”

“ _ Mmm _ ,” Pitch gladly handed over more, the tip of his wet tongue painting figure-eights over the raised nub while he coaxed Jack’s legs further apart, “Just relax and enjoy it, my love. All I want you to do is lie there and feel good.”

Jack couldn’t help but snicker, even as he spread his legs and laid his hands to either side of his head in surrender, “Practice what you preach, sometime.”

Pitch had to pause and even looked a bit sheepish because he deserved that one. He was still smiling when he sighed and met Jack’s eyes, placing an apologetic kiss on his sternum. “Touche. I promise I’ll try to work on that for you. Or you may need to tie me up.”

Jack laughed, already wanting to reach down and touch, because he was a tactile person like that. He thread the blankets between his fingers and clutched them to keep himself still at least until Pitch got rolling. "You're a shadowman. What could I tie you with that could keep you?"

“Ice perhaps?” The Nightmare King suggested with a wicked smile alluding to all  _ kinds  _ of inappropriate fun they could have with their powers. He kept his eyes on Jack’s as he dragged his teeth over the winterling’s chest, over to the side where his tongue was sliding into the dips of his ribs.

Jack moaned, long and low, then sucked in a quick breath so he could moan again. He was pretty sure Pitch would be at this too long for moaning the  _ entire time  _ to be a good idea, but he didn’t want to stop yet. Even his words were a bit of a moan, “Even ice casts a shadow…”

Only encouraged by all the noise, Pitch licked his way to Jack’s navel and nibbled just below. So cool and so smooth, he liked the way Jack’s skin felt brushing against his cheek as he explored, “To disappear into the shadows is a means of escape. Somehow, I don’t think I’d be very interested in escaping.”

Jack rolled his eyes, reaching down to tug pointedly at Pitch’s hair, “There’s a big difference between wanting to leave the bed and just wanting to move your arms. I have faith you won’t leave the bed.”

Pitch made a displeased little noise and tried to shake off Jack’s hand that was daring to interrupt his work. “Your ice has been effective on me in the past. But if it’s something you’re not interested in, that’s fine too, just tell me so.”

Obligingly, and with an amused little smile, Jack removed his hand and placed it back up on the pillow, “I’m plenty interested. I just know it’ll be your will more than the ice that keeps you still. And you don’t like staying still.”

“When I could be touching you, or kissing you, or making you cry out in bliss,” the older spirit murmured, falling back into his slow and thorough rhythm with his chin just barely grazing over Jack’s cock and his fingers circling to the underside of the foot still in his grasp, “the idea of simply staying  _ still  _ is torture.”

Jack giggled at both the ticklish touch and the way Pitch loved loving him more than the sex itself. He was so complicated. “I  _ know.  _ That’s my whole point.”

Pitch practically had his face pressed into the crease where thigh met torso, nuzzling the area first before he tasted it with long swipes of his tongue. “I would endure it for you… So long as you’d be ready to handle the  _ consequences  _ once I’m set free.”

Jack’s giggle grew into a laugh, hips bucking just a little when Jack failed to restrain himself, “I’m sure I can handle it. Whatever you throw at me, I can take it.”

Pitch spent some time at the curve of Jack’s hip, following the rise and fall with warm breath and an eager mouth, “Mm… Yes, you’ll take it, and you’ll  _ love  _ it, I’ll see to that.”

“I believe you,” Jack didn’t know what else there was to say. He hadn’t disliked a thing Pitch did to him, yet. Except make him  _ wait,  _ the Guardian thought impatiently.

There weren’t many that did believe him. It just made Jack that much more special to the Nightmare King, so he picked out a spot on the Guardian’s inner thigh and sealed his mouth around it to leave his mark. Jack tasted so good no matter where he put his lips…

Holy fuck, that was hot. Jack squirmed, then stopped because he didn’t want to disrupt what Pitch was doing… Then squirmed twice as bad with his other leg to make up for it. It felt so  _ good  _ to be marked, and to know no one else would ever know it was there.

Pitch smirked against the white skin he was turning dark, his peripheral vision catching the animated movements of Jack’s other leg. To placate him, his long fingers gently stroked from the knee, moving upwards, lingering at his waist while he licked his mark, then pulled away to study it. An appreciative groan slipped out of him at the sight, “Gods, I’ve been wanting to do that since I got you naked…”

Jack gave a breathless laugh, overwhelmed between the humor and the pleasure and the sheer  _ joy  _ he felt right then. He rolled partially to his side, pressing one hand to his lips as if it might help him take back control of his mouth, “What kept you?”

“All the  _ other  _ things I’ve been wanting to do to you since I got you naked,” Pitch grinned, eyes intently focused on Jack’s adjustments to take in each new area of his body that was exposed to him. The look on his face could only be described as  _ hungry  _ when he went in to lick the other thigh,  “You’re so pale. It’s such a turn on…”

Jack snorted, then choked on it and a moan when he  _ thoroughly  _ felt that tongue between his legs, “And it wouldn’t be if I were tan?”

“On you? You’d probably make it so,” Pitch murmured, lips wandering further down until he was planting wet kisses to the side of Jack’s knee and swiping his tongue behind it, “but I much prefer you as a winter spirit over a summer one.”

“I don’t…” That tickled  _ so God damn bad,  _ but the shudders it sent up his spine were  _ so God damn good,  _ Jack was stuck in a happy limbo between jerking away and pressing closer. Fuck. He rolled to the other side. Just in case that would help. “What?”

Were it more visible, one would have been able to  _ see _ the way Pitch lit up when it appeared he’d stumbled on a good, a  _ new _ , spot. He couldn’t let it go without torturing it for a few moments longer, “I’m saying I wouldn’t want you any other way, Snow Angel,” and a few moments longer than that.

“Nngh, uh…” Jack understood, kind of, but he no longer cared. What point had he been trying to make? “Thanks.” Gratitude was usually safe.

A dark chuckle was Pitch’s response. Jack was far too charming when he was distracted, not to mention absolutely enticing. Through with talking for the time being, Pitch made the trip down his lover’s calf in silence, worshipping those strong muscles with kisses and a few nips until he met a delicate ankle. He greeted that ankle with a bold tongue while his palm rubbed up the underside of a perfectly shaped foot.

Jack’s toes curled and flexed, since the whole foot was prevented from flexing and Jack just  _ had  _ to do something. All those sensitive nerves, usually reserved for banging into low furniture in the middle of the night, were alight with pleasure and the frostling… didn’t know what to do with himself.

_ “Pitch…” _

“ _ Hmm? _ ” The Shadowman wasn’t expecting a response, enthralled that Jack was enjoying this already and he was only  _ beginning.  _ Gods, he’d probably thought about these very feet for too long and it was high time he showed them just how he felt. With his hand idly massaging the heel, gray lips wrapped around the big toe, tongue teasing the very tip and bottom teeth grazing underneath.

Oh God, and Jack thought he’d been lost  _ before.  _ The massage was melting his bones, but the shivers those teeth sent sliding under his skin made him tense all over again. Pitch was taking him apart from the inside out,  _ “Fuck,  _ Pitch…”

Oh stars he should have done this  _ weeks  _ ago. Pitch let the pleased hum rumble in the back of his throat, indulging in the sweet throb of his dick just listening and watching his beautiful boyfriend come undone. Eventually he withdrew from the big toe to engulf the next two for the same treatment, but he made sure Jack could feel his tongue slither between them as well.

_ “Nnnn, ahhh…”  _ Jack whimpered, and sighed, and moaned into the quiet air of Pitch’s lair, hands fidgeting helplessly now that his legs  _ had  _ to be still,  _ all  _ of them.  _ It was so ticklish,  _ but also  _ really fucking hot,  _ and Jack’s cock was  _ so  _ hard for it. His whole body shook when a violent shudder tore through him, and Jack tossed his head from side to side, wanting  _ more  _ but never wanting it to  _ end.  _ How the fuck was he this sensitive?  _ “Pitch!” _

Unbeknownst to the  _ busy  _ couple, that was about the moment that the laser trigger went off.

A flabbergasted, and now  _ shivering _ , Guardian of Hope stood at the entrance of the Nightmare King’s lair, frantically flicking snow off of his fur after more or less getting  _ punched  _ with it. That was… unexpected, to say the least. Unexpected, and damn aggravating

Was this a joke? Did they  _ know  _ he’d be coming?

Suddenly snow removal wasn’t quite as important as self-preservation and Bunnymund grabbed for his boomerangs ready to fend off any festering shadow creatures. When his ears perked up to sound of an agonized moan in a familiar voice off in the distance, he charged forward preparing to take on the embodiment of fear itself.

He knew that monster would just end up hurting Jack. How long had Pitch been torturing him?!

Bunnymund had an arm raised ready to unleash his personal form of fury once he spotted Pitch looming inside his ironically bright globe.

...What the Hell was he doing  _ inside  _ the globe?

…...What the Hell was he doing not wearing an---

….

Oh good God, and there was Jack.

Shit. Fuck. That was  _ way more  _ than he ever wanted to see of his friend. His friend who did not look like he was in pain. At all.

_ What the ever loving Hell _ ?

Was the high and mighty Nightmare King actually…. kissing someone  _ else’s  _ feet? Only... his ear twitched. That sounded awfully wet for it to just be kissing.

Gross.

Okay, maybe last time Jack had made it pretty clear what he was up to, or what he  _ wanted  _ to be up to, with Pitch down here all alone. That didn’t mean Bunnymund was ready to accept it. Or imagine it in any way, shape, or form.

And now he went and collected himself some vivid mental images that even Toothiana couldn’t erase for him. They weren’t even  _ stopping _ despite a surprise audience and Bunny wondered if he’d somehow turned invisible again.

The Guardian that had been aimed to attack was abruptly robbed of all of his conviction.

A boomerang clattered to the stone floor.

It broke Pitch’s concentration instantly. A quick glance and a wet pop had his mouth free for snarling, teeth bared, eyes  _ enraged.  _ Hadn’t they taken measures to  _ prevent  _ this kind of thing?! What was another blasted Guardian doing here?!

His priorities kicked in, and Jack was suddenly cloaked in a shadowy robe, very much like the one that materialized over his own body. He even had some shadow to spare for Bunnymund, darkness inching ever closer to the so far silent kangaroo-rabbit. “You are  _ not  _ welcome here!”

Jack was confused. One second, delicious little tingles were spreading out from his toes, the next… He wasn’t even naked. The Guardian of Fun plucked curiously at the shadows covering his skin, marveled for one second at how they managed to tuck his erection away, and then it clicked and he collapsed back into the bedding with a frustrated groan,  _ “Again?  _ Seriously?”

Getting a hold of himself, Bunny made a grab for his fallen weapon and reset into a defensive stance, an equally heated glare on the Boogeyman that trickled down to Jack. “Oi, whose side are you  _ on _ , mate?!”

Pitch answered that with a slash of nightmare sand scorching the area just before Bunnymund’s feet, “ _ No!  _ You will not make him choose sides!  _ You  _ are the trespasser here and one way or another, you  _ will  _ be removed!”

“Bring it on, shadow rat! Someone needs to teach you you don’t go around threatening the Guardians!”

Jack was pretty sure that  _ someone  _ was him. Scrambling up onto his knees, and wincing at how that felt with a raging hard on, Jack inserted himself between his lover and his friend, gripping Pitch by both shoulders, and then moving one to the side of his face so he  _ had  _ to look at him, “Baby, I love you, but throwing around your sand isn’t going to help anything.”

He didn’t wait for a response; ironically, he trusted Pitch not to hurt anyone long before he trusted Bunny to do the same. Jack spun on a dime, careful to keep himself in the line of fire should Bunny go for Pitch, and gave his friend a glare to match everybody else’s, “Don’t even  _ pretend  _ you wouldn’t be just as hostile if someone came charging into your warren! Why are you  _ here,  _ Bunny? What’s happened now? And  _ why  _ couldn’t it wait for me to  _ come, _ first?!”

Bunnymund was just… going to ignore that last question. Fuck. At least they were both  _ clothed  _ now. ...Though Jack wearing the shadows like that seemed like a threat all on its own. “Toothiana came to us and told us what happened. If he’s gonna threaten one of us, he’s gonna answer to  _ me! _ ”

Pitch faithfully didn’t move, but the shadows did. The cave walls were as dark as their master’s name when he shouted back, “This is  _ my home!  _ I am allowed to deny entry to whoever I damn well please!”

“He already answered to  _ me,  _ Bunny, or don’t you trust me to handle this?” Then, without taking his eyes off of the Guardian of Hope, Jack leaned back into his lover and reached up to tug insistently at Pitch’s dark hair to get his attention, “Baby, this is my home, too. You’re not saying I can never have my  _ friends  _ over, are you?”

Bunny was the only one that could properly see the  _ betrayed  _ look that crossed Pitch’s features. Maybe it was just for show, maybe it was just for the quickest way to get their intruder out of their bedroom, but there was only so much pride the King of Nightmares could swallow. All that came out of his mouth was a low, warning growl.

Jack didn’t like that sound. It meant they had an  _ actual  _ problem here, and not just a pretend problem created by his friends disrespecting his personal choices (Although, to be fair, he expected that of Bunny.) Jack had  _ just  _ had a ton of friends over and there had been no problems at all. Jack  _ knew  _ he could have friends over. The problem was, not all of his friends respected Pitch.

Jack turned to his side, hands reaching back to grab whatever part of Pitch he could reach. Touch was comfort for them, more than anything else. “Bunny, you weren’t  _ invited.  _ You didn’t call ahead. And you’re just answering threats with more threats! That’s  _ totally  _ immature. It won’t  _ help,  _ and if you’re not trying to help, then you’re trying to hurt, and you and  _ I  _ will have a problem. Got it?”

The display didn’t convince Bunny that Jack had the sway over Pitch Black that he  _ thought  _ he did, his hand twitching automatically when he saw the shade move, although only into Jack’s touch. “You and I  _ do  _ have a problem, mate. We Guardians protect our own, and I didn’t hear  _ anything  _ about you protecting Toothiana against that monster!”

“Toothiana doesn’t  _ need  _ protecting! Pitch didn’t  _ do  _ anything, the same way he’s doing  _ nothing  _ now!” And, well, since they  _ had  _ a problem, there was no reason for Jack to play mediator anymore. Sliding out of the bed and out of the globe, the smaller Guardian stood his ground, “He was just angry because some self-righteous fool had barged into his home and started accusing him of things he didn’t do without provocation, and you know what? I can understand, because that’s  _ exactly  _ what you’re doing to me and yeah, I’m kind of  _ pissed off  _ about it!”

“Well here’s an idea for you,  _ brat!  _ Why don’t you come to your damn senses and stop shacking up with our  _ sworn enemy!  _ Crikey, you were  _ chosen  _ to fight him, not  _ fuck  _ him!”

“Well I just happen to be good at both!” There was no embarrassment here. Bunny was trying to shame him, but Jack wasn’t ashamed of what he did with Pitch, especially not when Cupid himself seemed to think it was a good idea. But then,  _ Cupid  _ didn’t despise Pitch. Nevermind that the Guardians had good reason to dislike the Nightmare King, any  _ intelligent  _ person would reevaluate their feelings with the arrival of new facts. He thought Toothiana had, but Bunny wasn’t what Jack called  _ intelligent.  _ He was, however, way too much fun to rile, “And the only  _ senses  _ I’ll be coming to are Pitch’s touch and Pitch’s taste. I was  _ chosen  _ to protect the children, and I did that. I’m  _ doing  _ that, way better than you did! Hard boiled eggs weren’t much when kids couldn’t see you, but it doesn’t matter where a snowball comes from, does it? They  _ love  _ what I do!”

Jack was just being petty now and Pitch kind of adored him for it. His molten eyes were fixed on Bunny’s as he stepped down from the globe to stand behind Jack, offering his support without being overly physical.

It was a miracle Bunny hadn’t snapped yet from the combination of the both of them, but Pitch getting that much closer put him right on the edge. “If you think the kids know  _ your  _ name over mine, you’re bloody delusional! This isn’t a game, hotshot! You better figure out what’s important to you right quick, or we’re gonna have big mobs of problems keeping you on this team!”

“It’s not  _ your  _ choice,” Jack reminded him cooly, “You  _ never  _ wanted me on the team. You didn’t  _ vote  _ for me or discuss and decide, there was no committee meeting where you picked the new Guardian; there was just moonlight and fate. I’m here for the  _ children,  _ Bunny, not for  _ you,  _ and I hold  _ no  _ delusions that you’d have my back when things got tough the way you claim every Guardian does.  _ You  _ don’t do anything nice for somebody else unless it’s immediately after they’ve done something for  _ you.  _ Maybe it’s good you don’t interact with the kids; I’d hate for them to pick up your terrible habits.”

“Says the biggest  _ child  _ of them all! You wouldn’t know responsibility if it bit you on the ankles, what kid would want to rely on  _ you  _ to protect them?! One tick and you swear to throw down your life for ‘em, another tick and you’re helping the bastard that wants to hurt them! All for a bloody  _ phase!  _ Manny’s gotta be looking for someone new as we speak!”

Jack was losing track of the conversation. It wasn’t about making sense past the feelings surging through Jack’s heart. It didn’t matter that Bunny had made, like, four different points and that Jack, usually a decent debater, should have addressed them all in parts. All that mattered was the purely defensive rage that took him over when Bunny mentioned the man he was in love with  _ again. _

The shout was so loud, the rage so overwhelming that his words bled from one to another and even broke on the high notes, “You  _ don’t KNOW  _ what Pitch wants because you  _ never tried to TALK to him!”  _ Which was exactly the same fucking thing Bunny was doing to  _ him  _ and what gave the Guardians the right to make assumptions and cast judgements before some basic fucking  _ research?! _

Jack didn’t realize he’d clenched his eyes shut in his screaming until a bright light changed the color behind his eyelids. Shock made them open again, and then a terrified wonder made him forget his anger for the moment when Sandy pushed between them and made them step back from each other.

Jack took more than a step. He took two or three or however many it took to press his back against Pitch’s chest, arms spread as if that might protect more of his lover from the Sandman. Was this going to become an all out war? Was Jack really going to have to pick sides to protect his own happiness? Fuck. Fuck, this was so fucked up.

It broke Pitch’s heart that he was able to taste just how scared Jack was when the presence of another Guardian made itself known. It also skipped a beat or two watching him come to Pitch’s defense. In this case, Jack was choosing  _ him  _ and words couldn’t begin to describe how much it meant to the shadowman. He almost missed that the second most dangerous Guardian was even there with all his attention on his lover, an arm coming around to loosely hold him around the waist.

He loved this boy with every last ounce of his dark, hidden heart. If that meant fighting…. Rather, if that meant retreating to the shadows for an unknown amount of time so Jack could figure things out with his ignorant friends without being personally attacked, he would do it. It would kill him a little on the inside, but he’d do it.

But if he didn’t have to… “State your business, Sandman. You are trespassing.”

Bunny, distracted from his utter disgust seeing Jack throw himself over Pitch to  _ shield  _ the creep, looked on at the shortest spirit in the room with pure confusion, “Oi, what’s up Sandy? I told you guys I could take care of this.”

The Sandman gave Bunny a thoroughly exasperated look, with just a touch of fondness around the edges, before he turned to the Nightmare King and Jack with sand shapes above his head. It was a bunny, being swept up into what probably wasn't supposed to look so much like a butterfly net.

"You're..." Jack was shaking, trembling imperceptibly in the wake of such strong anger and fear. Pitch could only tell because he was holding him, a hold Jack took strength from. "You're here to fetch Bunny, not..." There were too many alternatives in Jack's mind for him to name just one.

Sandy nodded enthusiastically, more sand swirling above his head. Sleeping children and the shapes of Nightmares being kept away by snowflakes.

Pitch found himself sharing in Jack’s relief, and when it seemed clear that a fight would not be imminent, he wrapped his other arm around Jack’s shoulders and held him close, hoping to dispel those fearful tremors. “By all means,  _ fetch him.” _

_ “ _ Fetch  _ me?”,  _ Bunny huffed indignantly, “We need to fetch  _ Jack _ before he--”

“Take  _ one more step  _ closer to him and you’ll  _ never  _ see the light of day again!” Pitch roared to the echo of approaching Nightmares.

Jack, even in his stunned state, knew better than to ignore that. Fortunately, he was in a better position to diffuse it than most. He reached up on autopilot to hook his hand around the side of his lover's neck in a comforting hold and barely heard himself when he said, "Oh my God, Baby, stop."

It was a good thing he did too, because the Sandman had dropped into a defensive stance and looked about ready to start up that fighting they were trying to avoid.  The pet name seemed to put him at ease though, and if he was the type to make sound, Jack thought he might be cooing right now.

Only Jack had the ability to break Pitch’s death-promising glare focused on Bunny. When gold met ice, it softened marginally, and the longer he stared, his possessive grip loosened too. It pained him to let go, he thought that’s where Jack  _ wanted  _ to be, but again, if this was what it took for the Guardians to not  _ betray  _ the boy…

There was still a hand on the winter spirit’s back, and he still looked like he was ready to dismember someone with his scythe, but with a sigh, he eased back.

An impressive show to be sure, but not enough to soothe the way Bunnymund’s fur was standing on end. Whatever light was in the cavern seemed to be getting dimmer by the second. “Right then. The  _ three  _ of us should get the Hell out of here and try and figure this thing out.”

"Wait," Jack said as if suddenly coming to his senses, "Does this mean I missed it when you got hit with the snow?"

Bunny had all but forgotten about that offense next to the  _ crime  _ committed against his eyes, but now that Jack mentioned it, “Blimey, that threw me into the God damn wall! I still have snow in my ears!”

Jack wasn't sure if he should laugh or scream. That sounded like it was amazing, but he  _ missed _ it! "Damn it, I was looking forward to that!"

Talk about adding insult to injury. Pitch had been looking forward to that too, although at the moment his mind was entertaining thoughts far more violent. Just because Jack changed the subject didn’t mean anything was forgotten about this pointless predicament.

“How in the world did you know I was comin’?!” Bunny demanded.

“We didn’t,” Jack shrugged, “Just assumed. The trebuchet triggers no matter who trips the laser.”

Sandy was rolling on his back on his cloud of sand in silent laughter. That was pretty fucking hilarious, if he did say so himself.

Bunny wasn’t quite so charmed, “You have a  _ snowball  _ door trap? With  _ lasers _ ?”

Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. Bunny was so uptight. It was  _ exhausting.  _ “Why not? After Tooth, Pitch was gonna install…” Jack turned to look over his shoulder for direction, “What was it? A spike pit? It doesn’t matter,” the Guardian shook his head and turned back to Bunny, “We abandoned that idea pretty quickly after my  _ non-lethal  _ suggestion was so  _ awesome.” _

The Sandman rolled forward and gestured to Jack and Pitch, nodding his head frantically, trying to get Bunny to see why everything was fine and this situation was  _ okay.  _ But Bunny wasn’t looking at him.

Indeed, Bunny was narrowing his eyes at the Nightmare King, who was sighing dramatically, “Unfortunately it doesn’t seem very effective…”

“Effective at  _ what?  _ Did Jack already use up his one phone call to the outside world?” the Guardian of Hope snapped.

To which Pitch growled, “Jack is free to come and go as he pleases! This is his  _ home! _ ”    


“Yeah…” Jack absently agreed, petting Pitch’s shoulder as he looked between the Sandman and the Easter Bunny. He turned to Pitch when he seemed to make a decision, “I think it might’ve worked better if we hadn’t been having sex at the time. You know how that is. But I also think Bunny might have had the right idea earlier, if for the wrong reasons. I don’t think we can talk this out down here.”

Pitch blinked out of his dark stupor, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Once it processed though, there was no helping the wince, the look of hurt and confusion, and then the Nightmare King’s expression was as dark as ever. Jack wanted to leave. Temporarily, or so he  _ hoped _ , but still. He was being left behind for the Guardians. Because  _ they  _ were unhappy.

Taking all that burning rage in his heart, Pitch swallowed past the pain, and despite his scowl, he removed his hand from Jack’s back to his face to stroke his cheek like this was farewell, “Then do what you must. You know where I’ll be.”

Pitch was such a drama queen. Drama king.  _ Dramatic.  _ And Jack… loved it, but right now it was getting in the way. The drama was harder to deal with when it was turned on him. So Jack replied with his signature snark, “Yeah,  _ by my side,  _ Shadowman. I’m not done with your moral support, yet.” He wrapped both arms around Pitch’s waist in a clingy snuggle and turned his attention back to his fellow Guardians, “I think we could all use a second to regroup and I’d feel better if I was wearing pants for this, so meet us topside at my lake in a minute or two?”

Sandy nodded readily and lassoed the rabbit to tug him along toward the exit. Whatever else needed settling, pants sounded like a good plan to him.

Bunny went along sputtering and protesting, but  _ went _ nevertheless.

Leaving Pitch and Jack by themselves again. Unfortunately it wasn’t as comfortable as it had been twenty minutes ago, and the Boogeyman wasn’t exactly all smiles.

Even if he  _ was  _ finally allowed the moment he’d been waiting for to admire how Jack looked  _ extra  _ delicious wearing the shadows. What a pity the mood was obliterated. “I don’t think you need my help for this one.”

“I think I do,” Jack said hopping back into the nest just to flop down for a second and  _ breathe,  _ “Fuck, and you didn’t even get to my pinky toe…” The winter spirit sounded truly devastated about that, until he laughed and rolled to his side to look back at Pitch, “Guess we’ll just have to do it again, won’t we?”

“Of course, Jack,” Pitch’s reply sounded very automatic as he collected up the Guardian’s scattered clothes and offered them back to him. It was a little difficult to consider their next sexual adventure when one or both of them were about to vehemently argue why they were having any in the first place. “Whatever you want.”

That tone had Jack sitting up again. So much for relaxing a second, he had a boyfriend to dote on. His hands moved right past his clothes to close on Pitch’s instead, tugging the shade as close as they could get with Jack in the nest and Pitch outside. He wasn’t sure what to say, because he wasn’t sure which part of all of this was bothering his lover the most, so he took a shot in the dark and went for the most important of all, “You know they can’t keep me from seeing you, right? They can want to, but they  _ can’t  _ keep us apart.”

“I know,” Pitch confirmed, leaning in to touch their foreheads together and letting the proximity soothe him. Or at least attempt to. “It’s ultimately your choice. I know that. I also know that I can’t promise I’ll keep my temper in check around them.”

“I don’t mind having to pull you back in,” Jack confessed, letting his eyes fall closed and fidgeting with the hem of Pitch’s shadows. They felt so silky between his fingers. “...I kind of like it. It reminds me… God, this is so selfish. It reminds me how important I am to you, that I can make you think twice about something you wouldn’t think  _ at all  _ about doing, before.”

That earned a smile on Pitch’s lips, right up until he covered them with Jack’s in a short and sweet little kiss. It was confessions like  _ that  _ that made the Boogeyman so much easier to rile up when it came to his beloved Snow Angel. “I got the impression you were more disappointed with me than anything.”

Jack shook his head, nuzzling their noses in the process. It was cute and made Jack smile a little, “I’m disappointed in Tooth. I expected this of Bunny. I’m relieved about Sandy. But you… I  _ love  _ you, Pitch. Even your short temper. It’d be boring if we were  _ both  _ cool-tempered hipsters.”

“Hm,” Pitch’s nuzzling turned a bit insistent, leading Jack further back onto the bed almost as if he intended to keep him there for a while, “I don’t know. It was getting fairly  _ heated  _ between you and Bunny. I don’t think I’ve seen you that angry since  _ we  _ were enemies…”

Jack couldn’t help his laugh as he toppled backwards into the nest, “He’s  _ such  _ an asshole! He was only  _ nice  _ to me once and it was when I saved  _ his  _ ass. Why  _ wouldn’t  _ I be angry with him?”

Well if Jack wasn’t going to stop him, Pitch crawled right on in after him and possibly ‘accidentally’ knocked Jack’s clothes back onto the floor on the way. “And yet he considers you close enough friends that he can meddle in your love life?”

_ “Exactly!”  _ Jack cried, totally  _ not  _ noticing where his hoodie went, “What the fuck is that, right? Tooth, I understand. She’s a total mother hen. She really cares about my teeth. But Bunny gives no fucks about me. Hasn’t from the get-go. Where does he get off acting like a big brother  _ now?” _

“Maybe he’s jealous that he’s not getting laid. You know what they say about rabbits...” Pitch offered his half-thought since the other half of his brain was thinking Jack’s neck could use another mark to show he was a taken Guardian. He spoke in a low murmur between nibbling on the skin he fully intended to suck on, “I really wanted to make you come…”

“God, and I was gonna,” Jack moaned in misery for his lost orgasm. “I was going to come so hard, I could tell.”

And he was going to come  _ now  _ if he didn’t stop where this was headed, because he was already disinclined to go through with the intervention up on his lake and he’d probably forget about it altogether if he let Pitch distract him any more.

With a defeated sigh, Jack gave it the exact minimum effort, “Pumpkin, I gotta get dressed…”

“Mmhmm…” this time Pitch’s automatic response didn’t sound so… desolate, but it was hard to hear much of anything when he was playfully tonguing and tugging at Jack’s skin with his teeth, no intention to stop in sight. He did have one thing to say, “Allow me to help you out of this robe,” and proceeded to creep his hand beneath the dark ‘fabric’, right between Jack’s legs.

Jack gasped and pulled away, tripping and rolling over himself in his scramble to  _ keep his head on straight,  _ “God damn it, Pitch! You  _ know  _ Bunny would lose his patience and come barreling back down here in the time it took me just to get  _ hard  _ again! I am not losing another erection to the stupid rabbit. I’m gonna get dressed, we’re gonna go up there, we’re gonna  _ handle  _ this, and  _ then  _ you’re going to fuck me five ways to Sunday, got it? With  _ no  _ interruptions.”

Pitch  _ very  _ reluctantly backed off into a sitting position but he was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Those were the kinds of orders he didn’t mind following, and Jack was so attractive when he was flustered, nothing at all like a ‘cool-tempered hipster’. It was going to be very difficult to keep his hands from wandering…

“As you wish, my dear,” Pitch conceded, snapping his fingers to make the robe disappear, and oh Gods all those spots he’d marked stood out so beautifully on Jack’s skin. His gaze as it roamed was hot enough to be  _ felt _ .

Jack felt it. Thoroughly felt it. And he wanted to just bask in the attention, he  _ really  _ did, but he knew Bunny and Sandy wouldn’t wait forever, so he groaned pitifully,  _ begging  _ Pitch not to make this as hard on him as it could be, and held out his hand, “My hoodie?”

Pitch took that hand and held it in his own in a most unhelpful show of supportive affection, “It’s on the floor.”

...Jack tried  _ really hard  _ not to laugh, but  _ fuck…  _ He dissolved into helpless giggles, burying his face in the blankets because  _ they were never getting out of here,  _ “Piiiiitch...”

The laughter was infectious, and though Pitch did still want to murder the kangaroo for shaking up  _ both  _ of them so spectacularly, he was chuckling along with Jack like he didn’t have a care in the world. Still holding his lover’s hand, a shadow mercifully sprouted up and delivered Jack’s clothing onto the cushions.

Jack lifted his head just as the cloth settled and gasped, “You are a  _ terrible  _ person. I love you so much. Now give me back my hand so Bunny will never see the hickey on my thigh.”

Pitch relaxed his grip but would not be the one to break away, feeling rather clingy after such an admission, “But  _ I  _ want to see the hickey on your thigh…”

“You can stare at it all you want later,” Jack promised, hesitantly pulling his hand back and going for his hoodie, slipping it easily over his head after all the practice he’s had getting undressed and dressed lately, “You can even give me five more to match, if you want. You know I won’t stop you.”

“One for each way I’m going to fuck you,” Pitch agreed, moving to slip his own pants back on since Jack was more interested in getting business taken care of than slacking off some more.

Funny, that.

Jack groaned, flopping down onto his back to wiggle into his own pants, “You make me want you  _ so bad.” _

Pitch rose from the nest to stand and ran his fingers through his hair before he jumped the Guardian again. Because that was exactly what he wanted to do with Jack splayed on their bed like that. “The feeling is so very mutual. When we’re done, I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t remember those idiots exist.”

“I am all in favor,” Jack enthused, sliding out of the nest and tugging on his clothes to make them sit right. He grabbed his staff from where it hung on the globe and literally hopped up into Pitch’s arms, “All aboard the Shadow Express?”

Pitch caught Jack’s weight as he always did, wrapping long arms securely around his passenger and leaning in suggestively, “You need to pay the fare first…” He immediately snatched his boyfriend’s lips up in a hard, heavy kiss, intent on stealing Jack’s breath away as he fell backwards into the shadows, battling Jack’s tongue even when they reappeared at the base of the tree near the frozen water.

Jack  _ knew  _ they had business to attend to, but he didn’t want Pitch to feel  _ short changed  _ or anything, so he didn’t see anything wrong with wrapping his legs tight around Pitch’s waist and diving into that kiss with abandon. In hindsight, so much enthusiasm was probably a mistake.

It probably was, because Pitch took that enthusiasm as permission to press Jack up against the trunk of the tree and continue kissing the immortal life out of him. Again, it wasn’t going to be him to break away, he was just the moral support after all, and in his opinion, Jack’s morals needed  _ lots  _ of bolstering. What better way to do that than with heavy kisses that promised so much  _ more  _ in the near future? Or now, right up against the tree, who cared if the friends were watching?...

The friends cared. Bunny in particular cared  _ a lot  _ that he was being subjected to more unwanted visuals and Good Lord, why did Jack look like he was so  _ into it _ ?

Oh right. He was a forever teenager going through his bad boy phase. “Oi, enough already!”

The frostling jerked back at the unexpected sound. But there was nowhere to go with that tree behind him, so he shoved the Nightmare King instead, smacking him on the shoulder in reprimand, "Pitch! I didn't know we were here! You should have  _ told _ me! Bad boyfriend!" Unfortunately, his broad grin took all the bite right out of it.

Sandy looked just as amused, silently pointing and laughing at the traumatized look on Bunny's face. You would think he's never seen a  _ kiss _ before. Meanwhile, Sandy, as a weaver of dreams, had seen  _ so much more _ than that. It was probably better for all of them that Hope didn't translate into fantasy. Maybe Bunny would have been less surprised by all this if it did. Or maybe he'd just explode. It was hard to know.

Bunnymund turned to the silent spirit somewhere between confused and insulted, “What’s so damn funny? Am I missing something here? This is the same bloke that nearly  _ killed _ you!”

With Bunny’s attention  _ sort of  _ off him, Pitch quickly leaned in for a rushed whisper, “Punish me later,” a little nip, and then slowly eased those feet he’d been trying to worship to the snowy ground.

Jack returned the nip to Pitch's nose and gave him as stern of a look as he could muster, "No turning me on just before business. It's cruel and unusual."

Sandy was trying to express himself through images Bunny could understand, that in the same way fear can't be killed, neither can dreams, and whatever Jack was doing, it was keeping nightmares from absolutely terrifying children across the globe. It made sense that only Sandy was noticing the trend, and it was kind of an abstract idea for concrete images, but the Sandman was nothing if not determined.

“To take a page out of your book,” Pitch murmured while Bunnymund was too occupied with a granular version of Pictionary in overdrive, “I’m going to break the  _ fuck  _ out of that rule.” Because Pitch already had a hand scandalously low on Jack’s back as they wandered closer to the other pair.

Bunny got the jist of what Sandy was trying to say but didn’t like what he was reading. There was too much bad blood for him to forget the past. “I don’t buy it, Sandy. You know those aren’t his true colors.”

If Sandy could make colors in his sand, he would have made a point about black pigment usually being a mix of  _ other _ colors, because Bunnymund could use a lesson in grayscale.

Jack pinched Pitch's thigh, but said nothing as he took in the argument in front of him, "Guys! If you have something to say to me, you should try saying it to  _ me _ ."

Bunnymund crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing Pitch disdainfully before his attention was on Jack, “We were hoping to say it to you  _ alone. _ ”

"He's my boyfriend, guys. And this is  _ about _ him. He has a right to know what your objections are." With a playful grin, Jack turned and hooked his staff around the back of Pitch's neck, pulling the Boogeyman that much closer to him, "Don't worry, I'll keep him on a short leash."

Pitch made a small noise as he was hooked in close, a lot like a tethered pet. If Jack was going to play it  _ that  _ way, he had no reservations about subtly slipping his hand up the hem of that blue hoodie, and then down just past the waistband of Jack’s pants, “If your objections  _ don’t _ have anything to do with the Dark Ages, my most recent attempt at revolution, or my essential function as a bringer of fear and nightmares,  _ do  _ speak up. It would be nice to hear some actual news for a change.”

“We aren’t going to let you hoard Jack,” Bunny stated flatly, “He belongs with us in the  _ light _ .” 

“Like Sandy?” Jack could not stop himself.

“And North, and Tooth.” Bunny either didn’t get Jack’s sassy remark, or didn’t  _ care _ . “He’s a Guardian, Pitch. You pick a fight with one of us and you’ve got one with us  _ all. _ Your little romp around isn’t going to change what his destiny is.” 

“I’m not the one trying to force him to chose sides. In fact, I was the one to spear sand at you to make you  _ stop. _ Maybe you need a refresher?” 

Jack interrupted his inner contemplation of how, actually, almost all of the Guardians Operated at night, in the  _ dark.  _ Bunny and Jack were the only two who really had day time activities. And half of Jack was still at night, so… 

But his boyfriend was picking a fight again, so Jack let that thought go for more important things, “He’s not hoarding me, I’m crashing all over his place. I still go out and play with the kids, Bunny. I do my job. I’m still a Guardian. I belong where I’m happy. What’s the next objection?”

Sandy nodded his understanding, but waved his hands to get Jack’s attention then displayed a thick snowfall above his head, getting thinner and thinner.

...Jack shrugged, bashful, “Okay, yeah, so I was kind of MIA for a while there, but I  _ promise  _ those were special circumstances and I won’t just vanish again. And if you think something’s wrong, you can call me. I have a phone.”

The Sandman perked up and, unexpectedly, produced a cell phone from a back pocket that did not exist to hand over so they could trade numbers.

Pitch was frowning watching Jack expertly type away on not only his device, but a completely foreign one. The  _ Sandman’s.  _ Yes, they were exact opposites, but Pitch wasn’t sure he was comfortable with even the Sandman being more technologically advanced than he was. 

He couldn’t much help his indignant tone, “What in the world do you need a phone for? Are you  _ texting  _ them dreams now?” 

Sandy shook his head. That was totally ridiculous. Instead, he signed the logo for instagram.

Which made Jack laugh as he handed back the phone, “You  _ would.”  _

Pitch was a lot  _ less  _ comfortable with Jack and Sandy going completely over his head with their conversation. “And what’s that?” 

Jack gave Pitch a fondly exasperated look, and summarized, “Basically a website where you communicate through pictures.” 

“...I see.” Okay, yes, that  _ did  _ make sense for the Sandman, but Pitch still felt irrationally threatened. Maybe he needed to pay Lelouch a visit sometime soon, because he was  _ not  _ going to fall behind his rival. 

Meanwhile Bunnymund was not understanding how ... _ domestic  _ this was getting. Even if it was a simple question, he’d never witnessed the Nightmare King ask for  _ help.  _ He almost did seem like a tamed monster for a second. 

Pitch was, if nothing else, a genius actor. “How blind  _ are  _ you, mate?” Bunny turned to Jack, “You can’t see that he’s  _ using  _ you?” 

“Using me for  _ what?”  _ Jack asked, affronted at the implication. They had a give and take relationship, yes, but Jack was taking just as much. “An ass to put his tongue in?”

….

_ …...Wha…  _ “ _ Augh,  _ crikey, Jack,  _ why?! _ ” Bunnymund looked  _ thoroughly  _ disgusted, folding his own ears against his head as if that could protect him from hearing anything more about  _ that _ although he caught Pitch out of the corner of his eye licking his lips and now he was feeling ill. This was what he got for trying to reason with a stunted teenage mind. “To get to the Guardians, you drongo! You already snuck him into North’s!”

“For the last time,” Jack said, irritation dripping from every word, “that was  _ my idea.”  _ He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms too, defensive about everything he was about to say and preemptively bracing himself for whatever Bunny would say back, “I’ve always been a trickster. You  _ know  _ that. It’s why you never wanted me to be a Guardian in the first place! A shiny new title wasn’t going to change who I am, you know. I’m still Jack Frost. I’m still more about snowballs and fun times than I ever will be hard work and deadlines, and you just need to accept that!”

“I  _ can  _ accept that! I can’t accept  _ him! _ ” Bunny blurted out unthinkingly, and unapologetic, “I get that you were lonely, but you are meant for something,  _ someone  _ better than the bloody Boogeyman!”

Jack winced, somehow not anticipating his years of isolation to be dragged into this. Bunny had never cared  _ before,  _ a thought that threatened tears, but Jack blinked them back because anger was so much more rewarding, “A year ago you would have thought the Boogeyman was perfect for a low life like  _ Jack Frost.”  _

Bunny accepted the attack. It was fair and accurate as far as their early years of knowing each other, but even so, “No. Even back then, you would have deserved better than  _ him _ .” 

Pitch took that moment to sigh heavily,  _ bored,  _ and turned around like he was ready to leave, “I’ve lost sight of what it is we’re trying to accomplish. Are we finished here?”

Sandy waved his hands frantically as if he could stop the Nightmare King from walking away. That was the first thing Bunny had said that was… Well, not rational or emotionally  _ un _ charged, but it had been an even-toned response to Jack without shouting and Sandy considered this a move in the correct direction. Maybe this could be settled, at least temporarily, if they kept like that.

So he changed his arm motions to encouraging Jack to continue. Talk it out. They were all  _ friends.  _

“But that  _ is  _ how you see everyone, isn’t it?” Jack asked in a cool tone, eyes dark, “Spirits have a  _ worth  _ to you, built on how  _ useful  _ they are. What good is it to know I wasn’t the  _ lowest  _ on your list when I know I was still the dirt under your feet?”

“It isn’t like that anymore! You’re important to all of us, Jack, and we’re trying to protect you!” Bunny defended with an increasingly  _ less  _ even tone. 

“I don’t need protection!” the forever teen cried, gesturing at himself, “I made it three hundred years on my own; that isn’t a problem. I need  _ love,  _ Bunny, and I can’t get that from all of you. You can’t spend all your time with me, you can’t relate to what it’s like being me, and you can’t pretend to understand the things that I find fun. Pitch  _ can.  _ That’s all there is to it!”

“Of course Pitch can! He’s doing it on purpose to fool you! You know he’s not above _ killing  _ someone to get what he wants, what makes you think he won’t lie to you?!” 

“Nothing,” Jack shrugged, but the shrug was obviously forced as the question took him off-balance. This was a gray area, more full of emotion than reason and Jack wasn’t sure if he could explain it to Bunny, who had no idea what it was like to be  _ them.  _ “Not really. Just that he wouldn’t get what  _ he  _ wanted in the long run if he did.”

“All that he wants is to bring about another Dark Age so no one has any other choice but to believe in him! Why would you even get close to someone like that!?” 

The frostling shook his head, “Because it isn’t that simple! All that he wants is survival, recognition, and some happiness while he’s at it. Bunnymund,  _ I  _ can give him what  _ he  _ needs,  _ and  _ keep him from trying to bring about another dark age while I’m at it. What part of this doesn’t work for you? Why are you so eager to fuck this up for us?”

“What do you mean,  _ what part?! _ He’s using  _ you  _ to turn us against each other! He’s already threatened Tooth directly trying to keep you  _ away _ from us!” Bunny argued back with more and more desperation. It had to be his title that gave him the strength to think he might eventually break through that poor, misguided ice.

Jack growled at the half-truth that was, “He threatened her, yes, but I talked him down and he agreed that  _ yes,  _ you guys  _ did  _ need a way to contact me. And now you have one! Sandy’s got my number! You’re  _ allowed  _ to come get me for emergencies, but I’m not going to stay away from him forever just because you guys can’t be civil about your house calls!”

“This is a mistake and you  _ know it,  _ mate! We’re trying to prevent a disaster here or are you that selfish that you’re just going to wait until something happens and have us come clean up the  _ mess _ ?” 

“I don’t want to hear accusations of selfishness from  _ you,  _ Bunnymund!” Jack  _ really  _ didn’t. It would set him off on a whole  _ other  _ rant that they didn’t have time for, right now. “ _ I’m  _ trying to prevent a disaster.  _ You’re  _ sitting pretty, ready to let history repeat itself. Or did you think Pitch was going to hang out in that hole, alone, obediently not starting shit for the rest of forever?”

“Is  _ that  _ what this is? You’re letting him fuck you so he doesn’t go back to terrorizing the kids?! Blimey, Jack, there are other ways!” 

While less than thrilled to have the most important relationship in his life summed up as  _ disaster prevention _ , Pitch was reaching his limit for how much bullying Jack had to take. He glided back up behind his winter lover, and placed a strong but gentle hand on a shoulder to speak to him quietly, “I don’t think this is going anywhere…” 

Jack sighed, a heavy, unhappy sound. “At this point, Bunny, if that’s how you have to think of it for your sealed vault of a mind to deal with it, then sure. I’m willingly and enthusiastically sacrificing my immortal shell to sensual pleasures and incredible orgasms  _ for the children.”  _

Pitch didn’t like that sound, and had that same hand rub up and down Jack’s back like it had any hope of comforting him, “Not bad for martyrdom…” 

Sandy snickered silently, then turned his hands up and shrugged in a grand, apathetic gesture. There were certainly worse ways to spend eternity.

Bunny did not appreciate being patronized, especially by one as young and naive as  _ Jack Frost _ , but they were both stubborn and it didn’t seem like the boy was going to budge on this, “I’m going to  _ think  _ of this as an immature  _ phase  _ and hope that when you’re done getting your rocks off, you’ll  _ wake up _ .” 

It didn't take Jack long to decide. "I'll take it," he declared, one hand letting go of the staff he was clutching and holding it out to shake.

…. Bunny stared at that hand like it was infected by shadows, and in all likelihood it probably  _ was _ , “What are we shaking on? Nothing’s changed.” 

"That you understand there's nothing more you can do and you'll be a decent person to me about it from now on, whatever we both think."

… “Fine,” the Guardian of Hope relented, glaring as he took Jack’s hand to shake. He didn’t want to end their friendship even if Jack was headed down a path of destruction. Hopefully there would be at least one of them left to help him by the time he needed it. 

Jack smiled, because progress was progress. "Thanks. Now, If the world's not in peril, I have a pinky toe in need of some attention. Catch you two later?"

Half concerned, Bunny looked down at Jack’s feet searching for injuries. And then it clicked, “ _ Ugh,”  _ and he was looking a little green, “Later,” and then he was hopping through a hole in the ground.

Pitch couldn’t have looked more smug. 

Jack tried not to look too much like a brat as he turned to Sandy and waved. 

It didn't matter, Sandy knew Jack was a brat and adored him, anyway. The dream weaver waved back, materialized a hat to tip, then turned away and took off in his sandy prop plane.

Pitch watched him go, acknowledging that his opposite knew how to make a stylish exit, then sighed when he moved in front of his boyfriend to get a look at his face, “You’re alright?”

"I'm upset," the Guardian answered honestly, leaning forward to press his body against the comforting support of the Nightmare King, "but I think I'm okay."

“I’m rather furious myself,” Pitch admitted as he wrapped both arms around the smaller spirit and held him possessively close, “You don’t know how badly I wish to rip his tongue out.”

"I probably really don't," Jack admitted on a shaky laugh. Pitch was way more violent than Jack, and had likely done a handful or two of things Jack wouldn't be able to stomach, but the knowledge was soothed by the way Pitch hadn't  _ tried _ to rip Bunny's tongue out, had not even interrupted their argument to threaten it. He  _ wasn't _ doing this just to tame him, but the taming was a happy side effect that ensured this relationship would last longer than the Nightmare King's temper.

Indeed Pitch was actively trying to temper his raging emotions by preoccupying himself running his fingers through Jack’s hair, tucking it behind his ear and trailing his touch underneath Jack’s chin. His signature temperature aside, the Guardian had a calming effect on the Boogeyman and all he had to do was stand there with him. “Anything we need to talk about?”

Jack was quiet, even hesitant as he thought it over, fiddling with the bark of his staff, "I think... that you should tell me why the Guardians hate you so much. You should list all the things you've done so that I... can understand them better, and they can't pull something out in an argument to shock me with by telling just their side, you know? Because you guys have history and I should know it."

Pitch slowed his touches gradually, his expression losing its fondness as he thought about that request. It was as fair as much as it  _ wasn’t _ , but he’d developed this nasty habit of giving Jack whatever he wanted, self-incrimination be damned. “That’s a lot of unpleasant history to go over. You won’t like what you’ll hear.”

"But I'll like it better coming from you than anyone else," Jack replied, pleading with his eyes for Pitch to understand. It wasn't trust, really, except on Pitch's end. It wasn't that Jack didn't know he was fucking the  _ Nightmare King _ . It was merely that he didn't want to not know anymore. He didn't want to wonder why.

Pitch didn’t want to meet Jack’s eyes. There were things he wasn’t proud of in his past and there were other things he wouldn’t apologize for. It was very possible that after a full disclosure, the Guardian of Fun  _ would  _ have a change of heart and see the monster the rest of them saw. He didn’t want to risk it. He  _ wanted  _ to lie and keep things just the way they were. 

But Jack deserved to know who he was getting involved with. Sharing eternity together would mean they share  _ everything _ , wouldn’t it? Fuck… 

He loved Jack too much. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.” 

It meant a lot to Jack. Enough that he realized the trust  _ needed _ to go both ways. His gaze dropped to Pitch's chest as the Guardian smoothed his hands up over that sleek robe made of shadows, "You, too. You only saw me in passing for three hundred years; you don't know what I was up to. Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you."

Watching Jack’s hands work just made Pitch want to lie even more. He loved those bold, carefree touches on his person that were only meant to cause pleasure, not pain. Would he lose that too, after?... “Thank you, Jack,” It was a sweet offer, but the Nightmare King couldn’t imagine anything the Guardian might have done before he was a Guardian that could affect the love he felt. Pitch wasn’t so naive to think the same applied to himself. “You might not look at me the same way after I tell you.” 

"It might be hard," Jack agreed solemnly, "but I don't want to love a sweet lie. I want to love you and all that you entail. So we have to."

Pitch chuckled helplessly, but it sounded nothing but sad. He picked his head up to kiss Jack’s forehead anyway. “You may not want to love me at all. I’ll just let you know now that these have been the happiest moments of my immortal life.” 

Jack pushed at Pitch's shoulder in mock irritation. He was way too anxious and apprehensive to really mean it. "Me, too, you dick, and I'm not that fickle. Your past doesn't erase your present. You've been nothing but wonderful to me, and... People can change. They do it all the time."

“So optimistic,” Pitch cooed, taking back the distance Jack forced between them by wrapping his arms tighter around him, “Well, if that’s what you want, we might as well get comfortable. Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

Jack considered the question. They were about to… have the kind of discussion that could change things between them forever. Wherever they had it, they would forever have the memories of that discussion  _ there.  _ Anytime they were  _ there,  _ Jack would remember it, and even if the nest, the lair, his lake were comforting places going into something so earth-shaking, he didn’t want any of them to be the setting for this.

Slowly, Jack worked his hands up the Nightmare King’s chest, to his shoulders, to his neck, where they took a strong, clinging hold of the hem of Pitch’s robe. He wanted… He  _ needed  _ to know Pitch wasn’t going anywhere without him, in this moment. 

“Take me away from Burgess.”

Pitch didn’t question the request. He merely nodded and pulled Jack towards the nearest shadow where they began to sink without any comments about having to pay a  _ fare  _ again. As much as he might have wanted it. 

His long arms were tight against Jack’s body, holding solid while they sped through an inky black limbo. Pitch wasn’t sure where to take them exactly. Someplace secluded. Someplace comfortable. Someplace where it was still cold and dark. 

An abandoned barn in a field some states away from Burgess won out. It was an old haunt of the Boogeyman’s, where curious children and adolescents would wander in search of answers to the supernatural. Somehow it felt appropriate, even more so with the fresh, untouched snow blanketing the barely standing structure under the dim light of the moon. 

Pitch set Jack on his feet again, and reluctantly let his arms begin to drop away. “Will this do?”

Jack let out a breath he hadn’t intended to hold, looking to his sides in explorative awe. He hadn’t known this was what he wanted until Pitch showed it to him. It was… “Perfect.” Jack spotted some clear floor space a few yards away and tugged Pitch toward it, covered in fluffy snow and illuminated by a large hole in the ceiling above. It looked soft and inviting and exactly like a place Jack might have chosen to curl up and sleep before Pitch’s lair became his home. 

Jack was plenty comfortable here, even if he had never seen it before. He sat, pulling the Boogeyman down with him, and made sure they were touching knees, feet, hands, as much as they could to draw strength from each other, before he met the Nightmare King’s eyes and gave permission to open the gates, “Okay.”

“I imagine this must be what it feels like in a confessional,” Pitch mused, admiring the way their fingers locked together in layers of gray and white. It was strange. Normally he loved to talk, and now he had an audience to hear his life story. Perhaps the best place to start was a bit of a preface, rip the band-aid right off from the get go. If Jack had a problem with the warning itself, there was no point delving into the details of old wounds. “Let’s get this out of the way first. I can’t say it’s the Guardian’s top reason for their hatred, but it would be yours; My nightmares have in the past been responsible for the deaths of children.” 

Jack couldn’t help the way his fingers tightened over Pitch’s. Children were… Jack’s  _ favorite.  _ Jack loved a lot of things, Pitch included, but everything  _ in  _ Jack drove him to  _ protect children,  _ and…

He took a deep breath, but he didn’t loosen his hold. He needed the contact as much as the outlet. Pitch murdered children. Jack wouldn’t let him do that, anymore. But even so, it couldn’t be  _ that  _ simple. Pitch needed the belief of children just as much as the Guardians and murdering them all wouldn’t accomplish that, so he asked the obvious question, “Why?”

It was a good sign that Jack was still there, still calm, still touching him, and it meant they were in for the long haul. Pitch wasn’t sure if he was actually comforted though. They were diving right into one of his biggest regrets, and he’d never talked about it with anyone before. “The first time was a mistake,” he admitted quietly, a thumb rubbing anxiously over Jack’s, “When the Guardians first appeared… It was a declaration of war. On  _ me.  _ The Dark Ages were a time when I thrived. Fear was so plentiful the concept of fighting to survive was utterly foreign. The idea that the kind of power I had could be  _ taken…” _ Pitch shook his head, “Well, you know how it goes. The heroes appeared and subdued the evil villain. I fought with everything I had until I couldn’t anymore, and my believers were disappearing by the day, by the hour. My death was imminent, and I panicked, so one night…. I just so badly needed someone,  _ anyone  _ to fear me, just to keep going. I put everything I had into that boy’s nightmare but I had no idea he had such a frail heart.” Pitch shut his eyes and could see that bedroom, that fragile boy in his bed as clear as day, the gasping breaths and the thumping pulse that abruptly shut down into piercing silence, “He never woke up. The fear and the nightmares of his sisters kept me going for the days afterwards, but my power had never felt so… poisonous to me before.” 

Honestly, Jack could understand that. It was, unfortunately, a lot less difficult for Jack to accidentally kill with his cold. He didn’t have to put his all into anything. He could probably kill an infant just by holding it. Which was why Jack had never tried to hold an infant.

He rubbed his thumb into the palm of Pitch’s hand much slower, firmer, to  _ comfort  _ that anxiety because it was only going to get worse from here. Jack could understand accidentally killing with one’s power, and he was intimately familiar with that poisonous feeling, but it wasn’t either of those things that he chose to focus on. There was an apprehensive dread creeping up in his chest, and Jack knew his words were going to instantly transfer the same into Pitch.

“The  _ first  _ time?”

Pitch kind of knew that’s where Jack was going to drive the conversation, and he opened eyes to briefly meet the Guardian’s before he was focused on their hands again. It was true that things were only going to get uglier. “I will say that was the only time I’ve actually witnessed a nightmare of mine directly cause someone’s death. The other times were… casualties of war, I suppose. Between all of the despair and panic I felt that I was going to die was an insurmountable amount of bitter anger. My purpose was, and  _ is _ , to counterbalance the light, in all senses, and I was being punished for doing what I was made to do, as if I had a  _ choice  _ to do anything else. I hated them. I wanted revenge. I wanted to make them pay and then make them  _ see  _ that I have a place on this world as much as they do, no matter what the Man in the Moon is trying to tell them. So, every time I managed to gather up enough power,  _ one  _ believer at a time mind you, I went on the attack. 

Powerful believers like your Jamie are rare, but they do come around, and each of the Guardians have had a few of them that stand out more than the others throughout many years. Those were always my targets. Those were who I reserved the worst of my nightmares for. Each instance had to be catered differently, but I was able to deliver something so traumatic that those children were never the same. Some driven to insomnia, some driven insane… One of Bunny’s in particular had hallucinated so bad, she ended up stabbing her brother to death. Of course I was pursued and beaten to a nearly powerless state every time, but that was when I truly realized fear can’t be killed. If the Guardians themselves feared what I was capable of, then I couldn’t die. It just meant starting at square one over and over again, my own personal Hell. But at least I was alive.” 

That was awful. All of it. So much of it, that Jack could feel it carving a hole out of his center, hollowing out his chest and leaving a cold that had nothing to do with winter in its wake. That was certainly a good reason to hate someone. ...On both sides, and Jack knew that understanding didn’t make it any better. The Guardians were trying, unsuccessfully, to murder Pitch in the slowest, most painful way possible and in return he took it out on innocents. It made the most recent war look fucking  _ docile.  _ And Jack…

Jack couldn’t breathe. Because his imagination had taken over and all it wanted to do was imagine what it would be like to find out Jamie was…  _ broken forever,  _ and it was all his fault for inspiring fun in his heart and adoring the kid.

With a great gasp, Jack forced himself back to the present, where that was never going to happen because Pitch didn’t want to do that anymore. At least, Jack hoped. Oh God, Jack didn’t know. Jack didn’t know but he  _ needed  _ to know because he  _ had  _ to trust that Pitch wouldn’t hurt anymore kids and fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jack didn’t realize there were tears forming until he blinked them away into drops of frost on his eyelashes, an effect that did nothing to dim the determination in his hard gaze  _ “Never again.”  _

Pitch was taken aback by that look, both the tears and the emotions he could see. For a moment he thought that Jack meant to end it all now, this relationship between them, but it made more sense that he meant the children, and then he had to think that Jack was leaning towards the side of the Guardians. Jack wanted him to promise to not fight for his life, because the children were more important. 

The Nightmare King frowned, eyes hard, in that moment feeling more alone than ever, “....You would rather me gone?”

Shit. Fuck. Jack’s steadiness wavered dangerously, because Pitch  _ did  _ want to do it again. Those kids… But they’d had this discussion before, and Pitch  _ knew  _ where Jack stood. “We’ll find another way, Pitch.” 

“Jack, I am the  _ Nightmare King _ . How can you ask me  _ not  _ to create nightmares?!” Pitch argued, tense and fingers twitching, “I haven’t done anything so traumatic in hundreds of years, you know. My tactics changed as they continued to wear me down. The latest was the Nightmare sand.” 

“That’s fine, whatever,  _ good,”  _ Jack rambled hurriedly, dismissing all of that as having missed the point, “Change your tactics,  _ please,  _ because nightmares are one thing, but brea-” his voice hitched on the word, unable to force it out on his first try. He swallowed, took a breath, and tried again, “Pitch, I’m a  _ Guardian!  _ How can you  _ break children  _ and expect me to be  _ okay  _ with it?!”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s exactly what your friends are thinking,” Pitch remarked lowly. Jack’s distress was heart-wrenching yes, he  _ hated  _ to see it, but… He was afraid. His sweet lover was already starting to slip through his fingers and he didn’t know if there was anything else he could do to stop it except give up his identity. 

Such a petty reply lit a fire in Jack’s eyes, “You  _ never  _ would have fallen in love with me if you thought I was like the other Guardians, Pitch, so don’t you give me that bullshit. I’m not mad at you for giving children  _ nightmares,  _ Asshole. Nightmares are normal, average, everyone has them. Whatever. I’m mad at you for  _ psychologically scarring  _ them! And not-” the frostling tripped over his own words, opening his mouth soundlessly while he tried to form the thought around his desperation, “And not…” He shut his eyes tight, because he didn’t want to face this world, “Pitch, I  _ begged  _ you not to make me choose between the children and you!”

“ _ I’m  _ not forcing you to,” the Shadowman argued, hands twitching again like he needed to get away because he wouldn’t be able to take it if Jack pulled away from him first, “But the Guardians might, and I think I know what your choice would be. I’m very accustomed to doing what it takes to survive, Jack, and I can’t promise you anything not knowing what I’d have to resort to. But I will say, breaking a child’s spirit was always from a revenge standpoint, not a survival one.” 

_ “Never again,  _ Pitch, because you won’t be taking  _ revenge  _ on my  _ friends,”  _ Jack insisted, “because they’re  _ my  _ friends. We’re not talking about the other Guardians; we’re talking about  _ you  _ and  _ me  _ and what  _ we  _ can handle and Pitch, I  _ can’t handle it  _ if you’re turning children into murderers just to hurt people I care about!” Jack let go, but his hands only pressed in, retaking a firmer grip around Pitch’s wrists to make it harder for the twitchy shade to get away, “You’re going to survive, Pitch, but not like that.  _ You  _ and  _ I  _ will  _ find another way.”  _

“Jack, I  _ won’t  _ have them walk all over me with you caught as the mediator in between. How is that fair?! My whole existence was forced to be altered just by them coming to be! You would have me confined under the bed, getting by on a nightmare or two each night just to make it to the next?!”

“I…” Jack didn’t understand. A nightmare or two each night? Pitch hadn’t even been leaving the bed for months. He thought… He thought their bouts of mass prank pulling and scare tactics had been enough. He thought  _ he’d  _ been enough. He thought, barring extreme circumstance, especially with the Guardians in an effective stalemate while Jack wouldn’t let them hurt him, that Pitch was doing  _ fine.  _ “This isn’t… Are you… I thought you were getting stronger…”

“ _ Stronger? _ ” Pitch repeated incredulously with furrowed brows. He couldn’t fault Jack for not understanding his power though, and truthfully, ever since Jack landed in his bed, he’d been outsourcing his duties largely to the Nightmares. Yes, things were  _ stable _ , but…. if it came down to it, if another threat were to arise from somewhere, would he even have the capability to protect Jack? 

...If the boy was still around to protect, that is. “I’m strong enough. I can control the Nightmares again, but they are a mere fraction of what I had. They keep a steady flow of fear trickling in, and  _ you…”  _ Finally, Pitch seemed to rediscover his fondness and turned one of his captive wrists to hold his boyfriend’s, “Please don’t think me unappreciative. You’ve helped me so much, Jack. It’s been many years since I’ve been able to hold onto any believers of mine for this long. Sandy in particular has a knack for undoing my progress as soon as I make any, and with tensions so high because of  _ us _ , it won’t surprise me if another battle occurs. I… don’t feel that I’m equipped to handle it.” 

The reasonable tone coming out of Pitch’s mouth did wonders to calm Jack down even if the words themselves were worrying. They were arguments he could debate, though. They weren’t… unchecked malicious intent or the imminent death of the man he loved and  _ fuck,  _ this conversation had been a roller coaster already and they were only on bullet point number two. 

“A battle  _ won’t  _ occur, because I’ll pull a fucking Pocahontas if the Guardians try,” Jack declared first. It was important that Pitch know, if the source of the threat was his friends, Jack would protect Pitch with everything he had. Next, “But Baby, you were treating belief as a zero sum game. You… What you did to Sandy and Tooth… I’ll admit Bunny was hilarious and adorable, but even North was limping around and children  _ need  _ them. Children need it all, Pitch, hope and hardship, or they can’t become functioning adults, so I need you to be okay with  _ sharing  _ believers. I need you to let the kids you scare also have good dreams sometimes, because that’s what they  _ need…”  _

Jack hesitated, because he felt selfish continuing, but… “Not to mention, you’d be taking away my believers, too.”

That was a very good point and Pitch was well aware of it. The idea of him ever falling in love, of ever being given the chance to  _ care  _ for another spirit that wasn’t just in passing or a desperate one-night fling had only ever been a fantasy. But now his fantasy was sitting across from him trying to make it last longer than Pitch considered possible. 

Since both his wrists were being held hostage, the Nightmare King just dove in to place the kiss he wanted on Jack’s cheek, hoping he wasn’t overstepping his bounds with all the new information being brought to light. “I know, Darling. You’ve… more or less revolutionized my usual way of thinking. Of  _ living.  _ Before, I was content to get by, clinging to the idea that one day I’d have a world free of the Guardians again, but  _ now…  _ You’ve actually made me happy to be where I am. I may always crave power and recognition, but with you, well…. I have everything I could ever want when I’m with you.” 

Jack swallowed, accepting those words as truth even if he still felt uneasy and uncertain and, just,  _ sad.  _ He still leaned across to peck Pitch on the lips to show him they were still okay. They were standing on shaky ground and making each other a little bit miserable right now, but  _ okay.  _ “Then why,” he finally began, slow and controlled because he couldn’t manage anything else right then, “can’t you promise me you won’t purposefully psychologically damage a child again? If I’m enough, and you’re strong enough, then why would you ever want to do that again? You said it made you feel like poison, Pitch, so  _ why? _ ”

“I  _ don’t  _ want to do it again. I don’t want to feel like I have to resort to something that drastic to  _ prove  _ I’m not a force to be waved off as nothing. But I don’t trust your Guardians. I don’t think this stalemate will last. I can make that promise if you want me to, Jack, but in the heat of  _ war _ , that won’t prevent me from coming up with something even worse.” 

Jack didn’t know what to say to that, and the crushing feeling that fell through him, made him feel small and settled in his stomach, had to have been all over his face because Jack sucked at poker. They were supposed to make it through this. Jack was supposed to learn everything and come to terms with it and they were supposed to leave this stronger together. Jack wasn’t supposed to feel heartbroken, like his love existed only on borrowed time. He didn’t know if he could bear this. 

_ “...Pitch…”  _

And then they were slipping again. 

The Boogeyman watched that sadness consume Jack’s expression and he could taste the Guardian’s fear on his tongue as palpable as any of their kisses. Maybe those weren’t going to be so easy to come by anymore. Pitch still loved this beautiful spirit, and he didn’t want to see it broken, even if that ultimately meant… letting go. “I don’t want to lie to you. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of our days as carefree as these past months have been, but… I understand if this is too much. Battle will undoubtedly happen again, and you deserve to be with someone that you don’t fear what they’ll do when your back is turned.”

Jack was shaking his head because he hated every word coming out of Pitch’s mouth. His nails dug into the Nightmare King’s wrists as if a tighter grip could bridge the gap between them on its own.  _ “No,  _ Pitch, it’s…” Fuck, where did he even start? “You  _ saw  _ Sandy earlier. He came to fetch  _ Bunny,  _ not to fight  _ you.  _ That’s one on our side. And Tooth might not like it, but you know she won’t fight me. Pitch, you really  _ don’t  _ have to fight them. As long as you don’t  _ endanger the whole world’s population of children,”  _ and here Jack  _ had  _ to give him a pointed look because who in their right mind would have ignored that? “they won’t try to beat you down again. And-”

The frostling’s voice cracked on the last word, embarrassingly high, and Jack had to stop and center himself again because the knowledge that he was  _ wrong  _ hurt so God damn bad that he might actually just cry and get it over with. “And,” he cleared his throat, “it’s not the  _ promise  _ that’s supposed to stop you, Sugar, it’s your love for  _ me.”  _

“ _ Jack _ ,” Pitch hushed, leaning in to touch their foreheads together for the extra contact and comfort. He was absolutely regretting having this conversation because none of it seemed to be helping, if the Guardian was still this upset. “I told you before- I’d do anything for you. Have I not proven that? When you tell me to stop, I stop. If I’m about to go too far, you pull me back. My feelings haven’t changed, you just now know the extent of the tempest you’re keeping at bay.”

Jack rocked forward onto his knees, throwing himself at Pitch to wrap his arms around the shade’s shoulders and cling with all the love and desperation he felt. He didn’t have words for how he was feeling. He probably couldn’t have gotten them past his throat just then, anyway. There was worry and anxiety and fear and sorrow and regret but there was also relief and hope and a fierce determination. He was terrified of how broken they would be if he failed, but that was why, Jack decided as his body melted into the Nightmare King’s lap, he  _ would not  _ fail.

Pitch was only attuned to the fears Jack was projecting and it made him hold onto the Guardian that much tighter to keep him close. It was reassuring that Jack wanted the proximity, to be so latched on it was hard to tell where one of them began and ended, but… This wasn’t farewell, was it? Jack was definitely scared of the future, but Hell, so was Pitch. “I love you, Jack,” he whispered since his lips were close to the frostling’s ear in their embrace, “I’m all wrong for you, but I love you.”

It was several seconds before Jack felt confident enough to find his voice and use it. Things hardly felt settled, or even remotely stable, but that was just their nature, Jack guessed. The melodramatic shade and the trickster frostling. Nobody expected them to be reliable, anyway. “I love you, Pitch,” he said, voice far stronger than a whisper because he needed to be heard, “You’re all kinds of right for me, too.”

Pitch took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of his lover that, for the moment, felt he was right where he wanted to be. There was still so much to say and discuss and reveal, but for now, he needed the reassurance as much as Jack, “Your heart is so precious to me. I don’t want to break it.” 

Jack nodded readily, because he felt the same way and he was so glad that Pitch felt that way, too. He turned his head quickly to kiss Pitch’s temple, then burrowed snugly in against the Boogeyman’s neck and shoulder, “Just be good to me, Baby, and I’ll make sure the world is good to you.”

The Nightmare King smiled a small fragile thing, leaning to the side to rest his head against Jack’s and hands rubbing up and down the blue fabric covering the winter spirit’s back. Those little admissions with Jack’s determination made him feel powerless but in the best way. He was  _ happy _ that his biggest weakness had a name and was curled up in his lap refusing to let go. Either this would work or his existence would fade, but a life without Jack didn’t sound like something worth fighting for anymore. “That’s a lofty promise, Jack. It’s my intention to be good to you no matter what the world does to me.”

"I know," Jack mumbled into Pitch's skin. But Jack was resourceful and liked to do the impossible. He  _ would _ get the other Guardians to back him one day. Hopefully when they saw the good that came from treating Pitch like he was worth something, and not getting hung up on the past.

Speaking of the past...

The frostling sighed and finally let go, sliding back into his seat where he slowly began the process of situating them again. His actions made his reluctance and emotional exhaustion obvious, every slight adjustment and tiny nudge filled with a trepidation that Jack didn't bother to fight. They knew this wouldn't be easy.

When they were finally back to facing each other, touching everywhere they could, Jack reached out once more and retook Pitch's hands. He settled them between their laps and took a deep breath, squeezing Pitch's fingers to show him they were okay.

Then met his eyes and began it all over.

"What else?"

It would have probably taken a good week sitting there in the snow to give Jack a full account of what happened between the Guardians and Pitch, and that was without pausing for sleep. Pitch decided to go as far as they could possibly go within the last few hours of darkness they had, as long as Jack was willing to listen.    


He told Jack how he didn’t actually hate children. He sometimes hated the frustration of keeping a hold on their fickle beliefs certainly, but there had once been a time when the Boogeyman had a little cult of his own. It was around the sixteen or seventeen hundreds when Pitch had been particularly weak, unable to manifest himself more than a shadowy silhouette with glowing eyes that he’d met a child in a remote location much like the one they were sitting in. She’d been scared, but curious, recognizing him as the Shadow Man from her nightmares, and she’d looked at him the same way one might a dangerous, but wounded animal. To his surprise, instead of running away in terror, she’d wanted to  _ help _ , because it was much better than the living nightmare she was experiencing day after day at home. 

She let him feed on her nightmares because she had more fear in her life than she knew how to handle. At least by giving it to someone else, it served a purpose, and soon she’d brought others from the village in similar situations to join her. They would gather by him every so often, seeking strength from each other. They’d even come up with a little ritual, passing around a stuffed toy horse each night to determine who would have the nightmare when they went to sleep. Once he’d gathered up enough strength, a truly Hellish night terror would be unleashed unto one of the children’s adult tormentors, and the cycle would begin again. 

For a time, Pitch had thought he could have gotten used to it. There wasn’t a lot of power to be had, but his followers were faithful, and they could see him and talk to him. He would  _ help  _ them slowly overcome their fears, make them wise as they grew up, while at the same time revel in their awe and horror with his ability to frighten those they thought would always be indestructible. 

It didn’t last for long. Somehow the village had come under the attention of the Man in the Moon. Pitch couldn’t know which Guardian did what, but he remembered feeling the fear about ending up on a Naughty List, someone screaming at him that he’d tricked them into having nightmares when they could have been having sweet dreams, and then he’d been ambushed. The Nightmare King had barely escaped and he still had the scar of North’s saber down his side to prove it. 

Which prompted another round of stories about battle wounds- the arrow he’d shot in Bunny’s leg followed by the dislocation of Pitch’s shoulder, which led to clipping Toothiana’s wing, met with Pitch nearly losing one of his eyes. North would forever bear a crescent shaped scar down his back from his scythe, and Jack had already witnessed what happened to Sandy. 

Pitch had managed to ruin Christmas at least seven times in remote locations, and Easter almost twenty. In exchange, Halloween was progressively losing its grandeur no matter how hard he struggled to keep fear alive, and it’d resulted in holding Toothiana hostage one year so the holiday could pass without the Guardians infecting it. 

There were simply too many incidents of compounding hatred to keep track of, many of them blurred together. The exhaustion of Bunny’s encounter earlier and the emotional ups and down made it so Pitch couldn’t coherently continue much past the sunrise.

The two of them ended up curled around each other and passed out in the snow. 

Jack woke first, in the middle of the day, to a nightmare about a broken Jamie.

Jack wasn’t surprised, and chose not to wake Pitch up for something so average and mundane. Instead, he waited until the Boogeyman woke naturally, then tugged them over to the shadows so they could go home.

And he hadn’t left. It felt world changing, all this information he now had. The way they tore themselves open to each other, splayed out for judgement and receiving only love and understanding. Pitch didn’t seem to get why Jack was so adamant, but the whole ordeal felt far more special to him than finally having Pitch up his ass. The trust Jack needed to let Pitch in him was utterly dwarfed by the trust Pitch needed to have in him to confess the things he knew Jack couldn’t abide. 

So Jack turned the tables. Pitch pampered him for a week, hardly letting him out of the bed and serving him everything he could ever want, and so Jack would do the same. He would only leave to fetch things for Pitch. He would give Pitch whatever he wanted while he recovered from that emotionally raw night. Which wasn’t to say Jack didn’t need to recover too, but Jack secretly suspected this was his own grand coping mechanism for the whole thing and saying it was for Pitch just sounded better out loud.

This only lasted a day. While Pitch could brew glorious coffee for Jack and serve up delicious candied breakfasts, Jack could not brew a proper cup of tea and was far more skilled with cooking over a campfire than a range. Nobody was surprised. 

So Pitch insisted on getting out of bed to cook for himself, but Jack insisted on going with him. At least Jack could serve up some truly wonderful and selfless sex for his boyfriend; he was pretty great at that. But they weren’t in the mood nearly as often as they had been for Jack’s week of bliss, because the discussion wasn’t over, far from it. Both of them were still processing and accepting and dealing with the new perspectives they had to deal with, and sex was comfort and distraction, but they were more comforted by each others’ continued presence and couldn’t stay distracted for long.

The questions didn’t stop, only paused, and Pitch had yet to run out of things to tell him. Jack was a little worried that he never would. With every story came a greater understanding though, and Jack was reluctant to let that feeling end, though he would probably sleep better once it did. They were currently in the kitchen where Pitch was handling his own meal while Jack sat at a nearby table listening intently and otherwise making an adorable nuisance of himself mixing milk and sugar and pumpkin and insisting what came of it was absolutely ice cream.

“---and now, I only really use this kitchen when you’re around,” Pitch surmised after recounting the last time he’d had someone else in his lair that  _ wasn’t  _ hostile, before Jack and Kamui. He was just about to pour another ingredient into the batter, when he looked over at Jack’s latest creation again, “Well? Pancakes or waffles to go with your ‘ _ ice cream _ ’?” 

“Waffles, obviously,” Jack answered, struggling to get the sugar to dissolve completely. Some things just didn’t work well at cold temperatures. “That’s a shame, though. Food’s so much fun. A kitchen like this should  _ definitely  _ see use.” Given the increasing list of betrayals, offenses, and atrocities piling up, that had been a fairly mild story. It made Jack think more about their friends than their enemies, and almost nothing at all about Pitch’s motives for it. It was likely a sad story for his lover though, given how long ago it had been. It was probably time for a break, so Jack smiled, “But just you wait, this is gonna be the  _ best  _ pumpkin ice cream you’ve ever had. I’m gonna try to flash freeze it!”

“As long as the kitchen doesn’t turn into anything like the bedroom you never use, freeze away.” But Pitch didn’t sound like he was paying one hundred percent attention when he started rummaging around for the even  _ rarer  _ waffle iron. The air between them still felt a little strange, or  _ off,  _ to be doing something as domestic as cooking together, but as he’d been doing for the past day and a half, Pitch was following Jack’s lead. “What else is on your mind?”

Jack’s smile slipped when his distraction was taken away from him. He kept stirring, anyway. “I’m kind of wondering…” Pitch  _ did,  _ sometimes, have visitors that didn’t hate him, even if they hardly stopped by. They both had friends who weren’t the Guardians, so, “why didn’t anyone, like, you know,  _ Cupid,  _ help you?”

“Help me with what exactly?” the Nightmare King asked back with a wry sort of smile, setting the waffle iron on the counter, “Help me spread fear and darkness? Help me fight the Guardians? It isn’t anyone’s battle but my own. More spirits contrast the darkness than complement it, and so many of them were  _ delighted  _ to have the Guardians appear. Even Cupid.” Pitch’s tone sounded bitter, his eyes distant looking into the bowl of batter he needed to be mixing, “Cupid and I respect one another. Our personalities get along, and we know how to have a fun time together, but fear doesn’t always lend itself very well to love. He did help me patch up my scar though…”

At least there was that, Jack conceded. But it still felt like too little. He knew himself to be in a unique position, capable of swaying the Guardians and protecting Pitch, but he still wished someone had tried to do more in the past. To be fair, if they had, Pitch may not have been single for Jack to pick up. But that didn't stop his heart from bleeding for the shadowman. It felt like nothing could stop his heart from bleeding this week. 

"I just don't like the thought that everyone stood back and watched the Guardians try to kill you over and over and did nothing, is all."

Pitch shrugged. Sweet of Jack to say, but, “Not everyone enjoyed the Dark Ages as much as I did. Who in their right mind would  _ want  _ to help the King of Nightmares? I think the darkness in my heart kept Lelouch away, if Suzaku weren’t so neutral, he’d  _ be  _ a Guardian, you’ve already seen what extent Kamui is willing to go, and Fuuma… One doesn’t really ask Mother Nature for favors like that. Out of my respect for him, the idea of seeking out Goku was never considered an option. My battle, as I said, has always been my own.”

"I know, Sugar," Jack admitted on a sigh, "I don't blame anyone. I just love you and wish your life had been better." 

Ice cream wasn't hard to make. Good ice cream took practice, but Jack was more doing this to play around than anything else, so if he mixed the ingredients a little haphazardly, who cared to judge? He took his bowl in one hand and brought it closer to Pitch so he could watch, "Are you ready? I'm gonna do it."

Grateful for small distractions, Pitch came up behind his boyfriend to wrap his arms around a slim waist, watching the bowl from over the top of Jack’s head, “Oh  _ do it,  _ Jackie Boy. Don’t tease me.”

Jack snorted and gave Pitch a flat look over his shoulder. It was nice to know that Pitch hadn’t been  _ too  _ emotionally shook up by his latest retelling. He turned back to his bowl and stirred rapidly. Jack had played around with his powers a lot in recent years, now that thermodynamics were thoroughly understood, and he was pretty good at instantly freezing stuff now.

Which seemed like a great idea up until the stirrer got one hundred percent stuck in the cream. Immediately Jack stopped sucking the heat out through his hand on the bottom of the bowl and instead... turned the whole thing upside down by the stirrer handle. Huh.

"My bad."

It tore an abrupt laugh out of the Boogeyman, one of his hands removed from Jack’s waist to cover his face because  _ that actually just happened _ . He wasn’t sure whether to classify that as anticlimactic or fucking  _ perfect.  _

Once recovered, he nuzzled against the side of his boyfriend’s face and admired his handiwork longingly, “You  _ are  _ a tease. I couldn’t even lick that without my tongue getting stuck.” 

"Yeah, it's pretty fucking frozen," Jack agreed, smiling to himself at the way Pitch could still laugh after everything and turning the bowl rightside up before setting it down near the waffle iron. The nearby heat would thaw it faster. "Guess that's something I need to practice, too."

“You’re just too powerful,” Pitch murmured before pressing a kiss to Jack’s temple and pulling away to resume his waffle making, “But  _ good  _ ice cream is worth waiting for.” 

"That should thaw pretty quickly but you might wanna rotate the bowl every few minutes," Jack mentioned absently as he wandered down the counter a bit before hopping up to sit on it. The nearby heating element was good for the ice cream, bad for Jack.

“Noted,” the Boogeyman-turned-chef acknowledged while checking the consistency of the batter, “You don’t have to stay in the kitchen if the heat is too much for you. I promise you’ll still get the first waffle.” 

Jack smiled adoringly at his boyfriend, but, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to leave you alone?”

Pitch glanced over at the Guardian and gave him that same adoring smile back, “Then I gladly welcome your company,” he emphasized with a humble little bow, “Would you like me to brew some more coffee?’ 

Jack started to shake his head, but stopped and shrugged bashfully. He was so damn greedy, sometimes. “Sure. It’ll go well with the waffles and ice cream, right?”

“It will if I make it a pumpkin spice latte. Or maybe a caramel latte, those spices pair well with caramel,” Pitch was clearly considering this very seriously, “Or a pumpkin spice latte with caramel and cream on top.” 

All of these things sounded good to Jack. Pitch was ridiculously competent when it came to pumpkin. So he just said, “Yes,” in a very decisive tone and let his lover figure it out.

It actually didn’t matter  _ what  _ Jack said, he could have told Pitch the weather forecast and the outcome would be the same- he was going to spoil the winter spirit. Pitch grew silent as he went into full creative culinary mode, pouring the first waffle, turning the ice cream bowl, re-filling the coffee machine, and assembling his usual army of syrups and spices he used to make Jack’s many coffees. Whipped, maybe, but he rocked it like no one else.

Jack had come to love watching Pitch in the kitchen, now that he wasn’t being a lazy ass and lying in bed the whole time. It wasn’t quite the same as watching him build something, but it was just as arousing. Pitch was so damn graceful, an absolute artist, and knowing all the things those hands could do made Jack feel hot.

Or, well, lukewarm, relatively. Whatever. Jack wanted his thick, gray cock.

Pitch sensed there were eyes on him, and it only encouraged him to make everything  _ more _ perfect, even if he probably would have  _ loved  _ the look on Jack’s face right now. A little chime in the background told him the waffle was ready, so he quickly went to remove it and plate it and take it over the top with the same caramel, whipped cream, and a sprinkle of cinnamon that would be re-appearing on the coffee when it was ready. But it wasn’t ready, so Pitch sought out Jack and held out a forkful for the promised first sampling. “Hungry?” 

Jack smirked in amusement, because that set up was too perfect not to be intentional. “Always,” the Guardian answered, dropping his eyes to Pitch’s body briefly before he leaned in to take the waffle bite into his mouth. Two could play that game.

… Yeah. Pitch  _ did  _ love the look on Jack’s face right now. He kind of wanted to get as close to it as possible and steal the younger man’s breath away. But again, he was going at Jack’s pace, so he could only stand there and torture himself when he caught a brief glimpse of a pink tongue watching that mouth work. “I’m here to sate your appetite anytime, day or night.” 

Mouth full of  _ delicious  _ waffle, Jack gave Pitch a look that clearly said he was trying to be annoyed but couldn’t make it past bliss, “I’m supposed to be pampering  _ you.”  _

Perhaps with more sentimentality than he meant to convey in their playful moment, Pitch admitted with a smile, “You being here is already more than enough pampering for me.” He took back the now empty fork, gave a little lick like there was anything left of Jack to taste on it, then got to work cutting off another piece, “How is it, my Prince? Does it need more caramel?” 

Jack couldn’t help his indulgent smile.  _ Anyone  _ would be in love with a person who treated them like this. Nevermind how long it took Jack to find him, how had no one else thought to be kind to Pitch? He shook his head and leaned in for another bite, “It’s perfect. If I want more caramel, I’ll pour it on you and lick it off, later.”

Pitch made a  _ very  _ interested noise as he guided the next bit of waffle between Jack’s delicious looking lips. That sounded ...sticky. But fun. If that’s how Jack wanted to spoil him, he’d have his clothes off before the Guardian could blink. 

After breakfast though. “Maybe we need a cabinet and a mini-fridge near the nest. There’s a lot we could do with the whipped cream too.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, “The light goes out in a fridge when you shut the door. It’s literally a box of shadow. You can already reach it from the nest, we don’t need to make our laziness  _ that  _ obvious.”

“We have been terribly lazy lately, haven’t we,” Pitch thought aloud more than asked. 

“It would be embarrassing if there was anyone who knew,” Jack nodded solemnly.

“We’ve fought for so long to end up where we are right here and now,” Pitch reasoned, idly poking at the whipped cream cloud atop the waffle, “Aren’t we allowed to be lazy for a little while and enjoy it?” 

“Absolutely,” Jack declared, “but nobody else needs to know about it,” he winked.

Pitch looked up from the plate and grinned, “I like the way you think, Jack Frost,” then proceeded to lean in for a little kiss on those sweet lips. Not for very long though, his attention was distracted by the sound of the coffee maker and he set the waffle on the counter so Jack could eat at his leisure. It was time to create another piece of sugary indulgence. 

The Guardian picked up the waffle, but he was watching his lover, “Didn’t you want some of this?”

Pitch shook his head, because he took his waffle rules very seriously and he was  _ busy _ , “The first waffle is your waffle.”

“Yeah, but Babe,” Jack tried again. That wasn’t his point, “Are you even going to  _ make  _ another waffle?”

“After I take care of you, dear,” was Pitch’s obvious answer, stirring the milky concoction in a tall mug, “You still want your drink, right?” 

There wasn’t a whole lot of emotion in Jack’s voice when he factually stated, “I really suck at pampering you.”

It was hard for Pitch to argue that, and maybe a King  _ should  _ be pampered, but… Maybe he just honestly did not know how to  _ let  _ himself be pampered. His initial response to any sort of friendly company was to take care of them, and he  _ definitely  _ had an uncontrollable urge to keep Jack happy so he’d keep coming back. The urge hadn’t lessened even a little when the Guardian started calling his lair  _ home.  _

That was just the result of a damn good plan. “I don’t need to be pampered. You know I can’t even lie back and be still. 

Jack chuckled because that was unfortunately true. He waved his hand dismissively and stabbed the waffle with his fork, “I’ll just suck you off to pay you back, then.”

“Only if you want to, Darling.” ...So okay, maybe he couldn’t pass up a blow job if Jack was going to  _ offer. _ “Maybe it’ll taste better with caramel on it.” 

Jack laughed, because  _ yes,  _ he was going to do that, “Certainly willing to try.”

Pitch would certainly look forward to it. In the meantime, he properly dressed the spiced latte with all the fixings he promised, poked a cookie straw through the cream, and delivered it to his boyfriend with a dramatic hand gesture and a grin. Honestly, spoiling Jack made  _ him  _ feel spoiled, just to be smiled at and complimented so much without it being manipulative. Making those blue eyes light up, and hearing that melodical laughter gave the shade more joy than he ever thought to have in his long lifetime. “What else can I do for you, Snow Angel?”

Jack hummed his pleasure. The coffee was perfect as always. He had to set the waffle down to sip it but whatever. He tugged the shade close for a kiss, because he more than earned it, and laughed, "You can eat your fucking waffle so I stop feeling bad."

“First I have to make my fucking waffle,” Pitch chuckled, but he still hadn’t leaned back from that last kiss. In fact, he was listing back in for another...

Jack put the coffee down then too, and wrapped his hands around the back of Pitch's neck to play with his hair a bit while he gave his lover another, longer, more heated kiss. Whatever his baby wanted.

Pitch absolutely drank in the sweetness, physical and emotional. It was soothing as much as it also made his heart hurt to think Jack was willingly putting up with such a broken spirit like himself. Surely he didn’t deserve Jack…

But fuck what anyone else thought. Pitch moved in between his lover’s spread legs and delved deep into that chilled mouth, tasting everything along the roof of it. He gently broke away when it occurred to him that Jack probably wanted to be swallowing more waffle and coffee over the Shadowman’s tongue, so he placed one last little kiss on the expanse of neck peeking out from Jack’s hoodie before turning back to the waffle iron with a deep breath. 

That parting had been just a little abrupt, but Jack wasn't sure it was for anything bad. Pitch was still enjoying himself and Jack couldn't read worries like his lover could so he went for the lowest common denominator of comfort, "I love you, Pumpkin."

Pitch wore a soft smile when he met Jack’s eyes to respond, “I love you too. Enjoy your meal.”

Jack laughed then leered at his boyfriend, making a show of looking him up and down, "The eye candy's delicious."

Pitch smirked, more than happy to play along even if he thought Jack was teasing him, “Really now? Does it turn you on to watch me stir things around?” he asked just as he ladled on more batter, a distinct hiss in the air as it hit the hot metal.

"A little," Jack admitted with a tiny blush, picking up his waffle again, "You look good when you make things. You're really skilled with creation. It's a shame you've spent so long on destruction."

Waffle iron locked, Pitch wandered over to hop onto the countertop next to Jack, and he brought the barely thawing ice cream with him. “Most would consider my creations an act of destruction,” he began cryptically, trying to lodge the stirring stick free from its creamy confines, “Though I’m hardly the only one.”

The Guardian leaned against his boyfriend's shoulder, "I don't see how a giant steampunk clock is hurting anyone, but I think you mean something else...?"

The contact was nice, and Pitch leaned a little more into Jack in turn as he continued to wiggle the stick back and forth, “Nightmares are as much my artform as blizzards are yours, as eggs are the rabbit’s, as toys are North’s. Hell, my power is  _ exactly the same  _ as Sandy’s but no one would ever think of his dreams as destructive…” Pitch trailed off when he got the stirring stick free with one last yank, and then went in for the lick he was being denied. Jack knew how to make an amazing ice cream. “They’d be wrong. We simultaneously destroyed someone once.” 

"How do you..." Jack began, wondering just what 'destroyed' really meant. It was surprisingly not difficult to imagine Sandy being destructive. The guy was fierce, no matter how jovial he presented himself. The Sandman was dangerous and people were fragile. Jack gave up on more words. He didn't need them. "How?"

“I’ve faced off with the Sandman more than any of the other Guardians. Either directly face to face or fighting over dreamers. On one memorable occasion, we met in the  _ same  _ dreamer,” Pitch explained, sounding so casual as he continued to lick the stirrer, “Between the extremes of a drug-like high and horror potent enough to shake one’s psyche… the human body couldn’t handle it. Neither of us realized until it was too late. But rest assured, only  _ I  _ was labeled the murderer.”

Jack was done with the waffle by then and set the plate aside in favor of his coffee. The casual air felt  _ too  _ casual, and Jack wondered if Pitch had really been ready to recount another story so soon, but he had asked and it was too late now, so the Guardian merely slipped his arm through Pitch’s to tug them close and laid a kiss on the side of the Boogeyman’s neck.

With the same careless, casual facade, Jack laid down some sarcasm, “Because  _ of course  _ you should have known what would happen, even when the Sandman didn’t, and conceded defeat, even when Sandy wouldn’t, and saved that person, even though that’s the  _ Guardians’  _ job.”

“Exactly.” It was about that time that the waffle iron chimed, but Pitch liked Jack right where he was, so the waffle extraction and plating was carried out by the shadows while he continued snuggling. “We did sort of share a moment of ‘Oh-fuck-let’s-not-do-that-again’ before his decapitation attempt though.” 

Jack pulled back in shock just enough to meet Pitch’s eyes, “Decapitation attempt?” Because they hadn’t already tried to kill Pitch enough.

“Well I don’t know what else he’d be trying to accomplish with his whip wrapped so tightly around my neck. I had that bruise for months…” Pitch  _ wasn’t  _ meeting Jack’s eyes, but was focused on the waffle that carefully floated into his lap after he set the ice cream aside. And just because he could, he reached over to grab Jack’s fork to cut into it. 

The frostling shifted his coffee over into one hand and used the other to much more carefully chill the whipped cream on top, until it was almost like fluffy ice cream, itself. The Guardians were way more ruthless than they had led Jack to believe, but, “How did you get out of it?”

“It’s hard to say. I can’t be certain if I was that much quicker to reach the nearest shadow or if the moral conflict set in and he decided to let me go,” Pitch shrugged after a bite of waffle, “He wasn’t at all conflicted the next time we fought though.”

Jack might ask Sandy about it the next time he saw the Sandman. It would be worth it to know which it was, or else to see how Sandy reacted to Jack knowing about it at all. Although Sandy would be less shocked than, say, Bunny, who seems to think Jack doesn’t know anything about the man he’s lying in bed with. 

Jack wanted to ask about the next time they fought, and every time after that, but he wondered if it would be cruel to make Pitch talk more instead of let him enjoy his waffle. The waffle that Jack should have made for him but didn’t. So the frost spirit kissed Pitch’s shoulder and leaned heavily into him, but didn’t interrupt his meal. “I know I haven’t known them long, but Sandy doesn’t seem the morally conflicted type. I’d bet you just got to your shadows first.”

“Mm,” Pitch leaned in for a quick nuzzle while he was working on some waffle and didn’t pull back very far when he was ready to speak again. ...He was so weak to any kind of affection Jack wanted to grace him with, it made these stories from his past a lot easier to re-live. “I didn’t mean conflicted about me, I meant the  _ human  _ we killed. None of them would think twice about getting rid of me forever.

...But yes, I am a bit of an escape artist. Unlike Toothiana.”

The sudden joke shocked a laugh out of Jack, unfortunately at the same moment he’d taken a sip, so there was a bit of a spit take that fortunately landed mostly back in his cup. Timing was everything. 

He grabbed a nearby towel to dab at his lips, but couldn’t help asking, “How  _ did  _  you manage to hold onto her for so long? Did you put her in the same cage as the baby teeth?”

Pitch adored that Jack could laugh at a joke or two at the Guardian’s expense. It was damn refreshing for a change, “Back then I didn’t have so many cages, and she didn’t have quite so many insects buzzing around her. Yes I did lock her in a cage, but I kept her on ground level where I could easily reach her. My word, Jack, she does not. Shut.  _ Up. _ ” 

“Yeah, but I like that about her,” Jack giggled, imagining a thoroughly exasperated Pitch still trying to enjoy his holiday. It was as sad as it was hilarious. “I never really saw her before, but as soon as we were talking, it was like there was never a reason to stop. I can talk to her to my heart’s content and she doesn’t ever act like I’m boring or the conversation’s pointless. It didn’t cure the loneliness, but it helped a lot.”

“Conversation is a little hard to hold when she’s screaming at you about what a murderous monster you are. Or threatening to destroy your history once the Guardians come set her free. I didn’t think much of it at the time, so I’m sure my memories have been destroyed by now.” 

Jack… was terrified that that was at all true. He would have been so much more lost without his memories. Would Tooth really do that, cherishing them as she did?  _ “Can  _ she really do that?”

Pitch frowned at the question. They were  _ just  _ talking about Sandy literally ripping his head off, but Toothiana’s too ‘ _ good _ ’ to get rid of his past? “Why not, Jack? They are hers to guard as she pleases.” 

“I don’t really…” Jack wasn’t sure how to tell Pitch what he was feeling. It was like… Jack was Guardian of fun, but that didn’t mean he could just walk up to someone and make them  _ not have fun.  _ He sort of assumed Toothiana was the same. “I guess I don’t understand how her powers work.”

“I don’t either,” Pitch admitted, “But if I am able to steal away  _ your  _ memories for example, and there’s nothing within her power she can do to recover them without that box, I don’t see why she couldn’t destroy them if she so desired. She is unique in that what she protects has a tangible form.”    


“Yeah, but…” Jack reached up to scratch the back of his head, because, “Weren’t you… Did you even  _ have  _ baby teeth to lose?”

…. 

Pitch grew silent then, not poking at his waffle or distracting himself admiring Jack. He simply stared hard at the other side of the kitchen, frowning, concentrating, searching through his memory for something he’d never been able to find. “I don’t know,” was the best he could come up with. 

Instinctively, Jack cuddled up to Pitch’s side, softening whatever hardship Pitch was experiencing in his mind with physical comfort. He couldn’t read minds, but he could read Pitch’s expression and the way fun fell away like mist on a breeze. “We could ask her. She  _ loves  _ to talk about her teeth.”

Unfortunately the suggestion just made the Nightmare King scowl darkly, and he was shaking his head like the idea put a bad taste in his mouth, “Absolutely not. I’m not giving her the opportunity to hang something like that over my head  _ again. If  _ a box exists, I don’t need it. I’ve come this far without it.” 

“Baby,” Jack lightly chided, nudging his elbow then kissing his neck, “If she hangs it over your head, I’ll guilt trip her so bad the Grand Canyon will look like a short fall. We don’t have to do it now, but I’ll  _ make  _ them treat you civilly in the future. I  _ will.”  _

Pitch eased back down, calmed as he always was by Jack’s continued attention, and cut into the waffle some more, although he didn’t eat it, “I ...believe you’ll do your best, Jack. But it’s hard to envision so many centuries of hatred undone.”

Jack shrugged, “I was more or less built to unbalance the status quo.” He hid his face in his mug as if that would make his discomfort less obvious. He liked being a Guardian, and he didn’t really enjoy the thought of dying that young for good or anything, but the knowledge that he was  _ made,  _ for a specific purpose and it was entirely out of his own hands,  _ entirely,  _ was a little disconcerting. Jack had three hundred years to run around doing nothing worthwhile because his destiny hadn’t been in his own hands. Fucking  _ Moon.  _ “Everyone thought I was made to make the world miserable, then they thought I was made to defeat you, why couldn’t I be made to bring peace to a long war? What I do is show up unexpectedly and do what everyone thinks shouldn’t be done.”

“That’s very true,” Pitch relented, smiling down at the young Guardian still clinging to him, still hoping so bad for all of them to find happiness. He leaned over for a quick kiss atop Jack’s head, just because he loved him so much, “If there’s anyone that could do it, it would be you.  _ That  _ I have no doubts of. I would just… hate to see what it would do to you if they turn their backs on you the same way they did to me.” 

"There's no going back," Jack reminded softly, "I took the oath and they don't get to choose the next Guardian. If they turn their backs now..." Jack wasn't sure, but it felt like the whole system would fall apart with it.

“I wouldn’t put anything past them, is all,” the outcasted Boogeyman reasoned, delicately nibbling on more waffle, “Much like how, after months of courtship, they still think I’m out to corrupt you.” 

"Time," Jack declared, deciding he wouldn't lose hope over only a pittance matter of months. That was nothing compared to their lifetimes and Jack’s determination and drive were nothing to scoff at. He would make it work, because he had to. "It'll take time, but we'll figure ourselves out."

“If you say so, Jack.” 

Abbreviated as it may have been, going over his life story was particularly tiring. As such, the Boogeyman and Jack had retired to the nest early that night, curled up as intimately as ever. Pitch was out before they could really have much fun and he only hoped Jack didn’t hold it against him. He vowed to make it up to the frostling when he woke up. 

...He just hadn’t expected to wake up quite so soon. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving~~ :D


	8. My Guardians In The Sky Let's Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone finds a little reason to celebrate~ 
> 
> Also YES HI WE'RE BACK WITH YOUR POINTLESS OVERINDULGENT FLUFF AND SMUT.
> 
> Pace yourself and enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This.... was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day. Oops. 
> 
> Thanks as always for the kudos and comments, guys. They keep us going.

The gasp pierced through his deep sleep, but it was the sound of hooves against stone that had Pitch sitting upright. When he looked around, three of his pets were looking straight down at Jack, who’d rolled out of his arms at some point during the night. 

With a nasty scowl, he shooed the Nightmares away and immediately got to work on the one going on in Jack’s head. Ironic, but he couldn’t tolerate that pained expression on his lover’s beautiful face. “Jack… Jack, wake up,” he shook the Guardian’s shoulder gently as he pulled him back in close to his chest. 

Jack jerked into wakefulness, eyes wide but unseeing. He gasped again, like the air was going in but he was still drowning. His arms flailed out, connecting with and then gripping Pitch’s arms tightly, an anchor pulling him back to reality where his gaze finally focused on the man above him. And then all the tension drained from his body in one shuddering wave, “Oh, thank God you’re alright…”

“Of course I’m alright,” Pitch was quick to assure, but his expression was full of worry, hands touching Jack’s face and smoothing through his hair, “Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jack nodded, closing his eyes but quickly reopening them. After a moment of hesitation, the Guardian sighed and turned over to snuggle against Pitch’s chest, “I knew you were alright. Even in the dream, I knew it wasn’t real. But you know how dreams are. It doesn’t matter if it’s  _ really  _ real, if it  _ feels  _ real…”

“I know,” Pitch adjusted so both of his arms were around Jack and he could press up against his body as close as possible, “Do you want to tell me about it?” 

Jack shook his head. Talking about it seemed redundant and futile and Jack’s tired, resigned tone said so. “The Guardians were just trying to kill you again. You know the stories. You’ve spent a week telling them to me.”

Pitch made a small agreeing noise, leaning down to place a comforting kiss on Jack’s bare shoulder, “You don’t seem like you’ve been sleeping very well since I started.” 

“Dreams help the mind process reality,” Jack recited blandly, taking less comfort from their words than from the solid, warm body in his arms. He could feel Pitch’s love in his hold, and that more than anything else was slowly calming Jack’s trembling. “I’m just not processing the nicest reality, right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Pitch murmured into Jack’s pale skin, rubbing his fingers into the Guardian’s back, “You don’t have to sleep here. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to seek out the Sandman....” But it would hurt like Hell. 

That was a stupid suggestion. Nice dreams wouldn’t change reality. Forcefully altering his dreams would stump his processing, and if cuddling Pitch was doing the most good, going  _ away  _ from Pitch would be, by mutual exclusivity, bad. 

But his lover probably wasn’t thinking that clearly right now. They were both shaken up by all of this. “Just hold me.”

That at least made Pitch smile, and he moved to press their faces close together just for more contact, “You don’t need to tell me. I never want to let you go as it is.” 

“Then stop offering stupid things like, ‘I’ll let you go,’” Jack mumbled into Pitch’s skin.

“What I want might not be what  _ you  _ want, but it’s too late now, I’m not letting go,” Pitch mumbled back, closing his eyes. 

Jack took a deep breath and sighed, melting against Pitch’s body. “You’ll know if I want to go somewhere. It’ll look a lot like leaving. You don’t own me, you don’t control me, you can’t keep me, and you can’t stop me. Baby,” Jack’s fingers curled against Pitch’s chin, making sure he had the shade’s attention. Jack still couldn’t close his own eyes without seeing his dream behind them. “I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Pitch had his eyes open again as Jack demanded them so. Whatever his Snow Angel wanted, even if it was to leave him… But not without another kiss first. He leaned in slow, giving Jack plenty of warning, eyes darting between his boyfriend’s own and his lips, before he stole them for something leisurely, but heated and hopefully comforting. 

Jack tilted up his head to meet Pitch tiredly, but eagerly, excited for the reassurance sometimes only true love’s kiss could bring. His eyelids began to droop on reflex, and Jack reached out to grip Pitch and pull him closer, needing him to fend off the fear. There was just one small flash of an unfortunate memory when they finally closed, but Jack put it out of mind. Pitch was fine, nobody was fighting, nobody was dying, children were safe,  _ Jamie  _ was safe, and having his tongue in Pitch’s mouth really helped to solidify those points. 

Pitch was only too willing to part his lips for Jack’s intrusion, his own tongue drawing the other inside for a wet, delicious dance. If it was reassurance the frostling needed… The Nightmare King gently rolled them over, laying his full weight onto his boyfriend and seeking out one of those chilled hands so he could tangle their fingers together. He couldn’t guarantee that Jack wouldn’t have another bad dream while lying in his bed, but as long as they were awake, he would make every moment he possibly could sweeter than anything the Sandman was capable of. 

Jack moaned into the kiss, fingers tightening over his lover’s, relaxed and…  _ happy.  _ The feeling was creeping over him as his fears were soothed and contentment gave way to something better. He would endure a thousand nightmares if this stayed his waking life. 

The Guardian pulled his tongue back just long enough to let Pitch know, “I love you.”

The Shadowman smiled, not moving even an inch away. He let Jack feel every brush of their lips when he returned the sentiment in a low, tranquil tone, “I love  _ you _ , Jack,” and kissed him lightly again. Gently, he sucked on his lover’s bottom lip, taking the extra moment to be sensual, before he asked, “Would you like me to stay up with you? I can put on some coffee.” 

Jack hadn’t realized until that moment how much he really didn’t want to go back to sleep. Pitch was so fucking perfect sometimes. 

The frostling nodded, but didn’t give up his hold on Pitch, “I don’t need the coffee, though. Do you? It’s a comfort but…” The bashful timidity was terribly obvious in Jack’s hesitation, “...I don’t want to let go of you.”

Pitch just grinned knowingly and stole another kiss because Jack was adorable. “Comfort is what you need right now. And you don’t need to let go, but forgive me if it isn’t one of my more fanciful creations. My shadows aren’t as artistic as my hands…” 

Seconds later, the coffee machine could be heard coming to life amidst the eerie silence of the lair.

Jack… dissolved into helpless laughter, because that was so creepy and yet so  _ charming,  _ and weird on top of it all. Fucking domestic shadows. He wondered if they washed windows and gave foot massages, too. 

Pitch quirked a hairless brow, “Well don’t judge it before you’ve  _ tasted _ it…” 

That just made Jack laugh harder, because he was suddenly, absolutely  _ certain  _ that the coffee would be  _ amazing,  _ and that…

The Guardians were terrified of these shadows because why, again?...

Pitch leaned in for a nuzzle that was more like a nudge, as if he’d understand that laughter better if he got closer to it, “I think I’m missing the joke.”

Jack snorted and hiccuped in his laughter, shaking his head like he just couldn’t take the world right now. After a couple gasps and one huge sigh, the Guardian asked, “Will they mop floors and do the dishes, too?”

Pitch blinked once and answered honestly, “If I command them to. They are an extra set of hands, but not  _ my  _ hands.” 

“They’re like…” Jack hiccuped, tears at the corners of his eyes, “They’re like Merlin’s brooms, or- Or the mice from Cinderella.”

Alright, the idea at least got a snicker out of him. Really, Pitch didn’t do much to dissuade that kind of fantasy when he taught his Nightmares to dance with him, but, “At least I don’t have to break into song to get them to do anything.” 

“Oh my God, but please  _ do,”  _ Jack begged, clutching onto Pitch’s robe, “Just once, so I can see it. Please?”

….

Pitch sighed helplessly. If Jack  _ hadn’t  _ just woken up from a nightmare…

...he would have been propping himself up to turn towards the kitchen area and clearing his throat all the same, “ _ Oh shadows, come to me,” _ he was completely making up the melody on the spot, but he had his arm out dramatically like it was something he did all the time, “ _ Bring my Jack his delicious coffee, Forget not the sugar and cream, As we help Jack forget his terrible dream… _ ” 

And as if on cue, not another minute passed before a coffee cup came floating towards the globe, riding on inky darkness. 

Jack was dying. Jack could not breathe. Jack was going to leave this world, and he would be leaving it with zero regrets.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, desperate for air through his laughter, curled up on one side clutching his stomach like that would help anything, “Oh my  _ God.  _ I can’t believe… I  _ can  _ believe. Oh my God.”

Three ‘Oh my God’s? Worth it. With a smug smirk Pitch reached to take the coffee mug before the darkness disappeared, and held onto it while Jack recovered from something much more tolerable. He was gorgeous when he laughed… “Are you satisfied, Darling?”

Jack was nodding so rapidly it was a wonder he didn’t hurt himself, “That was amazing!” His nightmare was damn near  _ forgotten  _ next to a spectacle like that. Who wouldn’t love a man who would make a fool of himself on demand like that? “Oh my God, I love you so much,” Jack cried, his voice coming out as a high whine when he whimpered, “It even fucking  _ rhymed…”  _

“Well of course,” Pitch was going to play this up as much as he could if Jack was going to be so tickled by it, “Doesn’t it usually in the movies?” 

Jack took a  _ deep  _ breath to calm himself, then pushed up into a sitting position so he could finally take his coffee from the most amazing man he’s ever known. “Thank you. I’ll suck you off for that, too. Now I owe you two blow jobs,” and then hummed happily when he took his first sip.

Pitch graced Jack’s forehead with a little kiss, and then rolled to the side to sit next to him so he could be comfortable drinking his coffee, “I’m not keeping a running tally. You can suck me off when you feel like sucking me off, and I’ll be beyond pleased.” 

"I'm keeping a running tally because I'd be a terrible boyfriend otherwise," the Guardian insisted, leaning sideways into his lover.

Pitch crept his arm around Jack’s waist, rubbing the pads of his fingers into his hip to keep his lover’s level of comfort high, “If you were a terrible boyfriend, you wouldn’t still be here. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, Jack.” 

Jack scoffed into his cup, “You’ve set my bar pretty low if sticking around is literally all I have to do. Pitch, I can be a better boyfriend than that, and I will be.”

“And I won’t stop you. I can only love you more, not less, my dear.”

With another deep breath, Jack tilted his head back against Pitch’s shoulder, closing his eyes and basking in the feel of someone who loved him. “Nightmares are worth it if I wake up to this.”

Pitch savored the way Jack looked right now, a complete one-eighty to the way he’d woken up, and brushed the back of his fingers down the precious Guardian’s cheek, “I may not be powerful enough to do much in the way of protecting you as I am now, but I can give you all of the comfort you desire.” 

“I kicked your ass, Pitch,” Jack chuckled, leaning indulgently into that hand, trying not to feel bad about putting Pitch down, because, honestly, he’d deserved it at the time. Jack could change his future, but not the Boogeyman’s past. “Protection isn’t what I need.”

With a coy little look, Jack added, “Unless you mean my heart?...”

Pitch sighed and dropped his hand altogether as if he’d been defeated all over again. “Any and all of it, but thank you for that. Brat.” 

Jack tried to fight his grin, but lost. An uncontrollably broad smile pulled at his lips and he snuggled against Pitch's shoulder to try and take some of the sting out, "Just imagine how much stronger we'll be together."

“That’s what I was  _ trying  _ to tell you nearly a year ago,” Pitch teased, nudging Jack just to be obnoxious.

"Yeah, but you wanted to terrorize all the children, then," Jack whined, because obnoxious was his own personal specialty, "We can be a force for  _ good, _ now. Cold and dark and scary as fuck, but in the  _ best _ way."

“Yesyes,” Pitch agreed like he  _ had  _ to, and leaned down to nip at the tip of Jack’s ear, “Shut up and drink your coffee.”

Jack giggled, because that was the nicest way to be told to shut up, and obediently shoved his face in his cup. 

\--------------------------

This happened every fucking year and Seifer wondered why he didn’t just go into hiding during the month of February. Occasional relationship advice throughout the year was welcome. Seifer loved romance.  _ Adored  _ romance. But dealing with everybody’s problems all within the same two week span was fucking terrible, and this year Seifer had his  _ own  _ issues to work out.

Desperation was desperation though, and Seifer understood so he put up with it, because he loved these people. He really did. Just not right now. 

“There’s only so many years I can surprise him with sex before it  _ ceases _ to be a surprise,” Lelouch argued, his translucent wings fluttering as he hovered anxiously around the God of Love.  _ Every  _ holiday was a struggle when you were courting Paul Bunyan, but that didn’t mean Lelouch ever backed down from the challenge. “So what do you get the man that doesn’t ever  _ want  _ anything and get an actual reaction out of him?” 

The truly horrible part of trying to help Lelouch was that Merryweather knew what Suzaku wanted even better than Seifer ever could. The only advantage Cupid could even pretend to have was that he knew Suzaku really, truly was completely content just to have Lelouch year after year. The Blue Fairy saw want only, never satisfaction. 

Suzaku really was satisfied by Lelouch in nothing but a ribbon for Valentine’s. It was  _ Lelouch  _ who wouldn’t be satisfied with that. Lelouch needed the illusion that he was giving Suzaku something Suzaku wanted even if he didn’t know he wanted it. Which was a very complicated romantic need for Seifer to try to meet, under the guise of meeting Suzaku’s. 

Fuck.

“Then maybe sex shouldn’t be the surprise,” Cupid offered. It was a good suggestion, if Merryweather would go for it, “How about a night spent together doing something you both enjoy but don’t get to do very often, where sex is totally optional and not the point? Knowing you two, it’ll happen anyway, but he might be surprised that it’s not required and still enjoy his time with you.”

It  _ wasn’t  _ a bad suggestion, really, but Lelouch demonstrated exactly how it would play out. Complete with voice changes and flitting from one side of Seifer to the other, “Right, ‘Suzaku, let’s go out for dinner tonight. What do you feel like?’ ‘Oh, whatever you want is fine.’ ‘Suzaku, how about the theatre? What do you want to see?’ ‘I don’t care, what do  _ you  _ want to see?’ ‘Suzaku, they just opened a new arboretum that’s supposed to be gorgeous, we should go.’ ‘Okay if that’s what you want.’  _ Augh! _ ” Lelouch paused his little back and forth with himself to run a frustrated hand through his hair, “I love the challenge as much as I  _ despise  _ it! He’ll just look at me with that same smile he does everyday and it never gets any  _ brighter _ …

Seifer gave the Blue Fairy a flat look, “You know exactly why that is.”

Lelouch threw his hands up in theatric exasperation that even Pitch Black would have a hard time matching, “Is that it then? Eternal happiness has been achieved and there’s nothing left to strive for? I swear he’s going to drive me  _ insane _ by the next century…” 

Cupid shrugged, “He only drives you as insane as he grounds you. Your intact mind is safe.” But that wouldn’t get Lelouch off his back, so he stopped, sighed, and tried again, “Eternal happiness isn’t a one-time achievement. You’re striving to  _ hold onto  _ it, and Dranzer will have it as long as you keep doing stupid stunts like  _ this  _ trying to make him happier because  _ that’s  _ how he knows that you’re still happy with  _ him.”  _

Lelouch looked positively  _ offended  _ and it had little to do with the ‘ _ Go Away’  _ vibe Seifer had been giving him ever since he spotted the other winged man, “What part of this is  _ stupid  _ exactly? This is  _ your  _ celebration!”

“This is the  _ worst day of my year,”  _ Seifer argued back, “Nearly everyone who hooks up in the week before this holiday will not be together another week from now and it’s not romantic  _ at all.  _ And Dranzer doesn’t even give a shit; you could ignore Valentine’s and surprise him in fucking  _ September  _ and he’d be just as pleased about it, so stop pretending!”

“You think I’m out here hounding you for  _ fun _ ?” Lelouch folded his arms over his chest as he glared at the blond, “Or are you so stuck with  _ Squall  _ that you can’t figure out how to be  _ Cupid  _ right now?” 

_ “Don’t  _ bring him into this,” Seifer warned with an aggressive finger pointed in Merryweather’s direction, “I gave you my recommendation already. You just didn’t like it. But here’s a tip, don’t leave the choices up to him. Plan the whole Goddamn evening down to what he’s going to eat and I guarantee you’ll both enjoy it.”

“How does that make sense? ‘Yes, we’re going to have a romantic evening together as long as you do  _ exactly  _ what I say’...” Lelouch turned away with a miserable groan already picturing it in his mind, “And he  _ would  _ do exactly what I say because he thinks it’s what  _ I  _ want _! _ ” 

“It  _ is  _ what you want,” Seifer began, but at that exact moment found himself feeling a little fuzzy around the edges, signaling the arrival of someone else ridiculously in love. At least the other halves weren’t here; Seifer didn’t feel like falling asleep on his feet today.

“Um,” Jack elegantly announced himself, “am I interrupting something?”

Lelouch huffed at the injustice of it all. Once he recognized Jack was there, his wants set in and it wasn’t  _ fair  _ that he was more or less here for the same reason when he had a boyfriend that was ridiculously easy to make happy. “You can’t figure out Valentine’s Day either?” 

Jack shrugged helplessly, “I’m not even sure if I should  _ do  _ Valentine’s day. Pitch isn’t really big on other peoples’ holidays.”

Seifer groaned and muttered to himself, “I hate this month.”

“Then pray tell what  _ are  _ you doing here, Jack, if you aren’t celebrating?” Lelouch was trying not to sound abrasive, but he  _ knew _ what he was reading and damn if he wasn’t going to get  _ one  _ thing right. 

“Well,” Jack sounded uncertain and a little bashful about it, “I was going to ask Seifer what he thought I should do. Have sex and call it Valentine’s, or have sex and pretend there’s no holiday at all.”

“I wish  _ I  _ could pretend there’s no holiday at all,” Seifer continued to grumble.

Lelouch scoffed at the ever so  _ mature  _ God of Love. “Cupid seems to be having  _ technical difficulties.  _ We apologize for the inconvenience.” 

Jack just… gave Lelouch an odd look.

“I’m working  _ just fine,”  _ Seifer corrected brusquely. His hate for the holiday in no way put him out of commission for the duration thereof. He turned to Jack and took a deep breath to calm himself, then gave his advice, fuck his life, “Feel free to do something special for Valentine’s. Pitch’s hate for holidays comes from a hate of the spirits who host them. He’s got nothing against  _ me.”  _

Jack’s expression brightened instantly. He had  _ direction.  _ “Then what do you think I should do?”

Seifer was going to scream.

Lelouch, the helpful little fairy that he was, decided to field that one. Because even if he wasn’t doing it out loud, Seifer’s wants were doing a lot of the screaming _for_ him and it wasn’t the most musical of mental noises. “Seifer thinks you should go away so he can try to figure out what the Hell he could possibly do for Squall on this most romantic of occasions.”

Cupid closed his eyes and quickly counted to ten. Lelouch was  _ trying  _ to get punched. He opened his eyes and focused on the, surprisingly, less obnoxious of the two, “Your relationship is still new. A candlelit dinner and new sex position is a very good option.”

Okay, yeah, now that Jack was looking for it, Seifer seemed super stressed. He nodded at the suggestion, although it wasn’t very creative, and decided not to be a complete nuisance. “Squall seems like the action over gifts type to me,” Not that Cupid didn’t already know that, but Jack was just trying to show that it wasn’t  _ all  _ about his own problems, “So maybe… teach him how to surf? I know he doesn’t need to, but maybe he’d find it fun. What do you think I should get for Pitch?” but he did have a purpose in coming here.

Seifer saw right through it, but the effort was appreciated even if it didn’t count for much. Seifer scrubbed a hand through his hair and tilted his head back to think. “I wouldn’t get him anything. He’s been around too long. He gets what he wants for himself, except the things he can’t, and that’s where the new sex position comes in. His greatest joy right now is having you around to play with.”

“Enjoy that while it lasts. It only gets exponentially more difficult as the years turn to decades and centuries,” Lelouch sighed. Yes, he could admit to himself that he was jealous of Jack’s budding relationship as far as the gift giving aspect. He was frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get any help for it either and he was taking it out on his best resource for fixing the problem. The very same resource that was now wishing to inflict physical pain, or at least for a convenient roll of duct tape for muting purposes. 

Perhaps he’d said too much; it was a bit of a bad habit for the Blue Fairy. “Look, I don’t mean to make this any worse for you, Seifer. I know you have a lot on your mind. If you like, I can go talk to him for a bit and see if I can catch anything that could help you. ….Although last time I did that, I couldn’t really get past the underwater breathing. He  _ really  _ wants the underwater breathing.” 

“Why didn’t you give him the underwater breathing?” Seifer asked, since it had been brought up, “That would have made for some really great blow jobs in my future.” Or so he hoped, but he didn’t really expect an answer. It wasn’t part of the undine package and that was all. 

Instead he turned his focus to something productive, “Look, you can’t change Dranzer. He doesn’t enjoy taking control and he never will. He only ever does to fix problems, and the whole point of you surprising him on Valentine’s is that you want there to be no problems to fix. Dranzer refusing to take charge is a  _ good  _ thing, and he likes it when you get all wrapped up in things,  _ and  _ you already  _ know  _ all his favorites, even if he won’t say them. So go big. Get all wrapped up in your huge plans of all his favorite things and don’t bother to stop and ask his opinion. He’ll love it. Seriously. Final answer.”

“.....Fine.” That kind of answer left very little room for Lelouch to argue. And it wasn’t as though Seifer was  _ wrong _ , it would just be nice if one of these years he could figure out that extra  _ something  _ that would make Suzaku feel like he was falling in love all over again instead of maintaining a constant. Perhaps some year, when he managed to get all the conditions right… 

But now he had an extravagant evening to plan. He would have flown away to do just that, if not for the scent of cigarette smoke and yet another barrage of wants hitting him all at once. 

Below on the sand stood Genjo Sanzo, staring up at the three of them expectantly with an extra dose of annoyance on his features. 

Seifer just groaned, “Oh God, what now?”

But Jack thought it was kind of rude and also less exciting to hover above ignoring him, so the Guardian dropped down to float next to the ancient priest, “Hey, Sanzo. Where’s your shadow?”

“Strategically  _ not here _ ,” the Earth-bound blond bit out as he tapped his cigarette onto the sand and scowled up at the remaining two spirits who hadn’t bothered to come down, “Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here, you bastards.” 

It put such a genuine  _ smirk  _ on the Blue Fairy’s lips, “ _ Oh.  _ I didn’t know  _ Sanzo  _ made the yearly Valentine’s trek too…” 

“You  _ all  _ do,” Seifer moaned in misery.

Jack suddenly felt kind of bad for asking for Seifer’s services, but at the same time…

He shrugged the thought off. He was here now, he might as well get some answers. Including, “I would have thought  _ Goku’d  _ be the one trying to romance  _ you.”  _

“Yeah, that’s how it usually goes,” Sanzo was making a point of playing off the fact that this  _ wasn’t  _ normal for him, “He might come back later. I don’t care. My cooking’s not that great. Give me something else.” The last statement was directed at poor, overburdened Cupid. 

“Yeah, you should stick to store-bought food,” Seifer sighed, giving in to the inevitable, “And don’t try to drive him anywhere. But Dexter’s a sucker for the little things. Get him something small, but  _ good.  _ Something that he knows took effort even if you didn’t cook it. He’ll consume it in seconds, but remember the gesture forever.”

“I  _ always  _ buy the brat food. That’s nothing new,” the priest complained, thoroughly rejecting Seifer’s first idea and expecting another, “Need something better.” 

“The  _ little things,  _ Mary Stigmata,” Seifer emphasized,  _ heavily,  _ in full-lecture mode after  _ that  _ kind of dismissal, “Dexter  _ does  _ grand gestures, he doesn’t want them himself. What he wants is to know you care, to know you want him, and you have such a large stick so far up your ass that he’s only ever gotten that through a pat on the head or paying for food, so  _ I’m saying  _ pay for some  _ really nice  _ food and call him a good monkey. All night. Just… be  _ nice  _ to him. It’s all he’s  _ ever  _ wanted.”

Sanzo stared hard at Cupid like he was trying to decipher a code more ancient than the scripture he used to guard. But he did it with such an indifferent look on his face, half shrouded by cigarette smoke.  _ Be nice?  _ That’s all? What the shit?

“Next,” Sanzo switched his piercing stare onto the fruitier of the flying fruits above him.

“You could always get  _ better  _ at cooking,” Lelouch suggested. 

“Fuck you. Next.” And violet eyes were on Jack.

Who shrugged. “Pour chocolate all over yourself and enjoy.”

“Shit, he’d end up biting something  _ off _ ,” Sanzo grumbled. Not that he was considering the idea because it sounded  _ way _ too fucking messy. “You guys suck at this.” 

Seifer had the flattest look in the history of flat looks on his face, “Or  _ you  _ do. If you didn’t want to put in effort, you should have stayed home. Let Goku take care of Valentine’s.  _ Again. _ ”

“Fuck you,  _ asshole,  _ the fact that I made the fucking trip out here…” But Sanzo stopped. He wasn’t going to explain himself. He didn’t need to. But maybe he didn’t need to make this trip  _ next  _ year, because  _ being fucking nice?  _

Whatever. At least he knew where to get the best meat buns. “Forget it. Thanks for nothing,” the blond concluded and turned on his heel to wander back the same way he came. 

Seifer, because he actually  _ liked  _ the monkey, gave it one last try, “Make sure to actually  _ use  _ the words, ‘I love you,’ at least once that day, alright? It’ll mean a lot to him!”

If Sanzo heard, he didn’t acknowledge it, and he was gone in a flash of light. 

“Poor Goku,” Lelouch sighed, but it was clear as day he was nothing but amused, “At least he’ll get laid.” 

Seifer groaned. Goku got laid  _ all the time.  _ He loved it, yeah, but  _ Goku  _ knew he could get laid anywhere. He wanted Sanzo’s love, his approval, his praise, and Seifer could only pray that Sanzo would seriously pat him on the head and say, ‘Good monkey,’ because those were the moments Goku treasured. 

The Guardian looked between where Sanzo used to be and Cupid, wondering at the admittedly  _ deep  _ advice Seifer had tried to give. Was that the kind of advice he was looking for this Valentine’s? Jack was hoping for something a lot more straightforward; some obvious steps listed one, two, three so Jack couldn’t go wrong, but that didn’t look to be what Seifer wanted to give.

Out of all of them, he’d given Jack the most concrete advice. Candlelit dinner and new sex position. But in the face of everything else said, Jack was starting to think that had actually been a metaphor for, ‘cliche romcom Valentine’s date of your choice.’

What was Jack’s date of choice?

“Matchstick,” the frostling began hesitantly, “Is there anything I can do that will  _ mean  _ more to Pitch than lit candles and a kama sutra roulette wheel?”

Seifer froze midair, then made an interested, impressed sound, “Hold onto that roulette wheel thing; I think he’d really like that. As far as  _ meaning  _ more, though…” Slowly, Seifer floated down to the beach where Jack was hovering and settled in the sand, “It’s really all about those things he can’t do for himself. Like, you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t give yourself a back massage. You have to get out of bed and cook it yourself then get back  _ into _ bed if you want breakfast in bed by  _ yourself. _ ”

With a shrug, Cupid sat his ass in the sand, “Make yourself totally unavoidable for the whole day. Be a little selfish about it, because he’ll want to be thinking of you too, and… If you can find, make, or do some of his favorite things, even if it ends a total clusterfuck, he’ll know you were thinking about him, and he’ll be happy. I recommend pumpkin spice.”

Not one to be left out, Lelouch floated down to the ground as well, his twitching wings seeming to have calmed down after both interruptions. ….Jack still had it pretty damn easy, if he did say so himself. “I don’t think you can go wrong. The fact that you’ll both be celebrating Valentine’s Day for the first time, or first time in a  _ long  _ while, will likely mean plenty.” 

Jack settled into the sand as well, looking a little put out by Lelouch’s suggestion, “Just because I can’t go wrong doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and do it right. That it’s our first Valentine’s  _ ever  _ makes it even  _ more  _ important that it’s not wasted.”

“There’s no way you’ll waste it,” Seifer dismissed that with an unconcerned wave, “You’re both way too romantic. Even with no plans at all, I’m sure  _ one  _ of you would show up naked with a bow. Maybe both of you. You guys have that kind of luck.”

It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly Jack could see at least part of a plan laid out before him, “Pumpkin spice tea served naked with a bow in bed?”

Lelouch snickered despite being plagued with yet  _ even more  _ mental images of the naked Nightmare King. “Not unless he shows up to bed all the same with one of your sugary concoctions masquerading as coffee.” 

Jack shrugged, “Then we’ll just have naked tea time followed by removal of the bows and appreciative sex.”

“Now you’ve got it,” Seifer nodded his approval.

“Sounds like a happy Valentine’s Day. What are you worried about?”

The frostling glared at the Blue Fairy, “The fact that I hadn’t even gotten  _ that  _ far before I came here.”

“You were over-thinking it,” Seifer sighed, “Most of you do.”

“I  _ have  _ to if I want the day to be at all special,” Lelouch argued, folding his arms over his chest, “I’m sure you’re overthinking your  _ own  _ plans too.”

Seifer shook his head, “I’m trying to woo a soulless witch who  _ isn’t  _ in love with me. Meanwhile, Suzaku  _ adores  _ it when you overthink things. You have a built-in excuse.”

“But you’re  _ Cupid.  _ Talk about a built in excuse.” 

Another groan. “My powers don’t work on  _ me,”  _ he argued, “and because they don’t work on individuals, they work on couples, I can’t see what Squall wants because the other half of him is  _ me.  _ I am literally sabotaged by myself.”

“I know that feel,” Jack lamented.

Alright, Lelouch didn’t have a witty comeback for that one. Or an actual idea to help, which made him feel extra unpleasant since  _ he  _ was a major part of why Seifer was stuck in such a situation. And here he was pestering him to make his  _ own  _ Valentine’s a good one.

He was starting to understand why Seifer wanted to punch him. “My offer still stands if you’d like me to try and talk to him.” 

Despite everything, Seifer appreciated the offer, “I won’t say no, I just don’t think it’ll help, because, frankly, I don’t think he wants  _ me.”  _

“ _ Frankly,  _ if he didn’t want you, I think you’d be wearing a lot more scars than the one between your eyes,” Lelouch countered as he lifted back into the air, “I’ll let you know what I find out later tonight.” 

Seifer… couldn’t argue that, so he just nodded and tried to smile his thanks, “Good luck with the underwater breathing thing.”

“Ugh, I may just give it to him so he’ll get over it already,” Lelouch rolled his eyes, “And you can thank me later when you start enjoying the benefits of it.” Turning, the Blue Fairy approached Jack for a loose hug and affectionate hair ruffle, “I’d wish you good luck too, but I don’t think you’ll need it, so instead I’ll just say, have fun, although that seems unnecessary too.” 

“I just don’t know how to Valentine’s, yet,” Jack relented, hugging back but resisting the hair ruffle. Lelouch’s hair wasn’t the kind of hair for ruffling. “I know Pitch loves me no matter what; I’m just nervous. I’ll get over it.”

“Glad you’re seeing things my way,” Seifer quipped, patting Jack on the shoulder, “Naked with a bow and you’ll be fine.”

“Probably don’t even need the bow,” Lelouch chuckled, heading further into the sky, “I’ll catch up with you both later.” 

Jack waved, but then followed the fairy into the air, “Thanks for your help, Matchstick. I feel better. I hope you do too, soon.”

“Appreciate it,” Seifer smiled, if a bit strained, “but I’m glad you two are doing so well. I really am. Sorry that I’ve been grumpy today.”

Jack laughed, “No worries! Cupid’s allowed bad days. See you around!”

It was only a couple hours later that Cupid was on his own journey across the world. It wasn’t  _ easy,  _ exactly, to figure out where Mother Nature might be at any one time, but it wasn’t as hard as locating, say,  _ Jack Frost  _ either. Fuuma’s love for Kamui was so true and so dedicated that it shone like a beacon. It wasn’t some massive overwhelming fog of fluff to his senses, just very, pointedly,  _ noticeable.  _

What  _ was  _ fog and fluff to his senses was Pitch Black’s puppy love, which assaulted him as soon as he got close. Oh good, now he could plant the naked with a bow idea in Pitch’s head and hear the hilarious story that would be naked tea time later. 

Pitch and Fuuma made a very familiar picture, one nearly in the other’s lap as they shared a cup of some very red,  _ festive  _ looking ice cream. The Boogeyman was still oblivious to their company as he continued to animatedly ramble on about his latest scheme which no doubt involved a certain spirit of winter, “--haven’t skated in decades, but I can’t figure out if he’d prefer something secluded or one of those massive ice rinks that I’m sure he’s watched many couples skate together on.” 

“Depends where you want it to end up, Thriller,” Seifer interrupted, sweeping into the room and settling lightly into the seat at his side, “He’ll spend hours on one of those massive rinks, but in a smaller space he’s more likely to get bored and turn his attention to your cock, instead.”

“Well greetings to you too, Cupid,” Pitch’s eyes lit up at what a fantastic opportunity  _ this  _ was, and out of courtesy, he held out his spoon with what one could only guess was red velvet ice cream, “Care for a bite?”

Seifer went for it. Comfort food could only help, “Thanks.”

Fuuma hummed an intrigued note. Cupid did not often go seeking people out at this time of year, “I assume you didn’t just happen upon us? We’re not exactly hiding in plain sight today.”

“For the first time, I find myself in your position,” Seifer nodded, proving Fuuma right, “Honestly, I’m glad you’re both together. I need outside perspectives.”

“I am fairly outside,” Mother Nature agreed.

“You are what makes the outside outside,” Pitch lightly teased, but he was feeding Fuuma the next bite to make up for it, “What sort of perspective does Cupid need that he’d seek out nature and darkness?”

“Like the rest of you, I want to do something special on the day that celebrates romance with the man that I love,” Seifer began slow as if telling a story, then finished in a matter-of-fact rush, “Unfortunately, the man I love has no soul, has no romance, and has no affection for flowers. So what do I do?”

“And you can’t even just fuck him,” Fuuma mused, rather bluntly.

“What about food?” Pitch asked between licking his spoon clean, “He still needs to eat, doesn’t he? Or drink. A bottle of wine might make him loosen up.” 

“Or make him drown the island,” Seifer mused. It wasn’t a bad thought; Squall just never showed any favoritism toward any kind of sustenance, “But I already did the food thing when I gave a whole cow to his shark.”

…. “You… carried a whole cow into the ocean?” Pitch had to ask, half on his way to his next scoop of ice cream. 

“Of course not,” Seifer eyed Pitch for the suggestion, “I know sharks eat  _ anything,  _ but I didn’t want to give her a tummy ache or make her deal with bones. I brought her a cooler full with a cow’s worth of nice cut steaks.”

Fuuma tilted his head back to look up, as if there were anything to see but ceiling, “And he’s  _ not  _ in love with you for that?”

“He did seem pleased, but no.”

“So the shark is an easier date than the sea witch,” the Boogeyman shook his head. He did hope to meet that shark one day, but that was hardly the matter at hand, “You could always bring  _ her  _ the wine.”

“Do sharks do wine?”

Fuuma sighed. Kamui wouldn’t have appreciated wine, either. “But there are things he likes to  _ do,  _ aren’t there?”

“Swim,” Seifer thought, “sink ships, stand in the rain, fight…”

Pitch took a moment to eye Cupid’s white wings. “I suppose swimming isn’t exactly an option… Jet ski, perhaps? Or,  _ oh,  _ what about those ridiculous swan boats?”

Seifer didn’t hesitate, “He would sink it on sight.”

“But he  _ likes  _ to fight?”

“So  _ fight  _ him into the swan boat.”

“He would sink it even if we were  _ in  _ it,” Seifer insisted, quite rightly.

Pitch frowned, honestly wondering what Seifer saw in someone so ...unemotionally hostile. “What sort of fighting does he like to  _ do  _ exactly?” 

“The kind I like to do, Thiller,” Seifer responded, nudging the shadowman in the hip with his blade.

Pitch’s eyes widened in their understanding.  _ Now  _ it made sense. Sort of. It was a  _ starting  _ point for some sort of relationship at any rate. “I didn’t realize he had a sword… Maybe he wants a new one?”

Seifer shook his head, “His blade’s almost nicer than mine. Even if I could replace it, I don’t think I’d want to. But I think we might be on the right track?”

“Most couples fuck on Valentine’s,” Fuuma pondered quietly, “Perhaps you might fight instead?”

Pitch made an agreeing noise around the spoon in his mouth before he removed it and offered it to Fuuma with another scoop of ice cream, “Fight until neither of you can walk straight, celebrate with wine, and see where the night takes you?”

“I doubt the celebrating will happen, and the night will probably take us into unconsciousness,” Cupid was quick to point out, “but fighting until we’re falling over ourselves has possibilities.”

“I hope you can at least get a  _ kiss  _ out of the deal.” 

“Maybe,” Sefer conceded. That’s happened before.

Fuuma twirled his fingers, as if playing with a string that wasn’t there. “You said he likes rain. Shall I make it rain for you, then?”

Seifer laughed, because that would ruin so many  _ others’  _ Valentine’s, but weighing Squall against them, he didn’t care. “A proper thunderstorm, if you would.”

“I’ll even throw in some waterspouts for you.”

“Sounds… not romantic, but dramatic. Do try not to cut each other’s heads off.”

“We’re usually pretty good about that,” Seifer shrugged, “but I can’t make any promises.” Instead, Seifer decided to make plans, “So what are you doing  _ before  _ the ice skating?”

“Hm?” Pitch was slightly taken aback at the shift in topic. Having Cupid question his own plans almost made him question them himself, but it was better to get his feedback  _ now _ than tell the disaster story later. “I was thinking breakfast in bed. I don’t know if you can stuff oreos into French toast, but I’m going to find out.” 

That… Pitch was  _ really good  _ at Valentine’s day, for a guy who mostly worked with people’s fears. Jack was going to  _ love  _ that, except for the part where Jack was hoping to be up first, making tea. That was going to be a race and Seifer felt no need to mess with it. Even if Pitch was up first, Jack could strip and put on his bow before the Boogeyman was back, and no one’s Valentine’s should be one hundred percent planned. Real fun happened when life threw you surprises. 

Which was what Seifer was trying to do to Pitch, “Were you going to do anything to make serving it extra romantic? You give him breakfast in bed all the time, right?”

The Nightmare King tilted his head with a slight frown. No, he hadn’t really considered the atmosphere of the situation when he was going to tackle a new, improvised recipe. “I always serve it on the nice china, and I don’t think he’d actually notice something like flower petals on the bed. Perhaps I could blindfold him, but I’m expecting he’ll be fully passed out anyway…” 

Oddly, Seifer was hoping he wouldn’t have had to lead Pitch quite so heavily toward the goal, “Ever thought of doing something  _ to yourself?”  _

...Pitch did not understand the line of questioning. “Such as?”

Seriously? “Sexy cop? Sexy kitty? Sexy french maid? Nothing at all?”

… “That would distract from the French toast,” Pitch argued with a bit of a pout. 

“Valentine’s isn’t about the  _ french toast,”  _ Cupid said, a note of disbelief to his voice.

… A fair point, but was it  _ necessary?  _ Pitch… wasn’t exactly fond of those costume options. Though the question was whether or not  _ Jack  _ would like it, and when he was in a mood, Jack tended to be in a hurry to get them naked as soon as possible. “I assume you’re hinting at this for a reason.” 

“I am.” Seifer didn’t have to say  _ what  _ reason.

But it annoyed the Hell out of Pitch. “ _ Well?  _ Is there something I should know? Has he been ogling the local law enforcement behind my back?” 

Seifer sighed. “Just wear a bow, Thriller. Nothing but a bow.”

...Oh. Well. “I’m sure I have one of those lying around somewhere.” 

Good. Seifer smiled, and leaned in to steal some more ice cream. He may still be uncertain about his own holiday plans, and who could blame him? But Seifer could rest well knowing Jack and Pitch would be having a great time, and Cupid had a hand in it.

\----------------

Holidays held no significance to the one monitoring the passing of all days. Honestly, Kamui couldn’t keep track of them; it was only because of his most recent dealings with the Boogeyman that he remembered Halloween. 

The Candle Yin remained high on his mountain, idly rearranging the clouds. He might not have been able to keep his holidays straight, but he knew his seasons, and winter called for thick cloud cover. There was no need for extra sunlight unless he felt like it. 

And concentrating on sunlight was difficult when there was a tiny, shiny dragon on a stick hovering in front of his face. Kamui’s reaction was instant and he jabbed his elbow backwards into the solid body behind him. There was only one spirit bold enough to play games with him like this. 

Fuuma gasped a breathless laugh, using only one hand to hold his new sore spot. He needed the other to keep the tiny spun sugar dragon safe. 

“I take it you don’t like it?”

Kamui only tilted his head back to look up at Mother Nature impassively, “That’s for sneaking up on me. What is it?” 

“Sugar,” he said simply, twirling the little dragon to catch the light, “On a stick. A lollipop.”

Mismatched eyes blinked and refocused on the tiny dragon with interest. One of  _ those  _ treats. “Oh,” he reached up and plucked the stick out of Fuuma’s hand, “This one’s different.” 

“It’s an art form,” Fuuma agreed, lowering his hand but keeping both obediently off of Kamui’s person. For now. “A special lollipop, since it’s a special day.”

Kamui was unwrapping the delicate looking dragon from the plastic when he took his best guess, “New Year’s?” 

“Cupid’s day,” Fuuma smiled, stepping around Kamui so that he could watch his expression while he took in the gift, “I wouldn’t have thought of it, but our friends are all quite obsessed this year. I thought I’d celebrate in solidarity.”

“How are we supposed to celebrate?” the Candle Dragon questioned with a raised eyebrow, taking his first taste of his candy with a lazy lick. 

Fuuma’s eyes followed nothing but Kamui’s tongue, “I had always thought chocolate was important, but a conversation recently has changed my understanding. It seems all we need are gifts and sex, the things that make us happy.”

Kamui may have bothered to look unimpressed if he hadn’t been enjoying the flavor in his mouth. That didn’t sound too far off from any  _ other  _ day Fuuma came to see him, so he helped himself to another lick and turned back to his clouds, “I’m busy.”

“You are always, my love,” Kamui was either making it night or making it day, and it always mattered which he did. But then, Fuuma was always changing the world, even if he made it look like he was doing nothing at all. If they were always busy but ever found time to fuck, then why couldn’t this be one of those times? The next Kamui’s tongue slithered out to taste his treat, Fuuma made sure his fingers were there to feel the texture of that tongue, too, “This is something we make time for.”

The taste of salt mixed with his sweet gave the dragon pause. He ultimately could not help the next little spark of intrigue as he met Fuuma’s eyes, overshadowed as it was by annoyance. ...Didn’t stop him from rubbing the tip of his tongue underneath the pad of one of those fingers with tentative curiosity. “Why should I make time today?”

“Because it’s a special day,” Fuuma smiled. There wasn’t anything eager or cunning or imploring about the curve of his lips, and yet it still came off that way, “and I’ve brought you a special treat, and you know I’ll make it good for you. But you can finish with your clouds, Dragon. We have the whole day together, and then the whole night.”

Which was technically true for another couple spending their day in the mountains, but Lelouch was feeling the pressure of his self-imposed time crunch. He’d secured the resort room easily enough, but then he was flitting about with other preparations, dinner, decor, and he’d never flown so fast for a damn bottle of sake. He fired up the hot tub out on the balcony, he lit candles, and donned an intricate robe that looked as luxurious as it did  _ transparent  _ while he waited for Suzaku to return to the room after sending him on some insignificant errand. Fuck, he was already feeling exhausted and they hadn’t even done anything  _ fun  _ yet. It wasn’t the first time he questioned Cupid’s advice for this day. 

The Blue Fairy was on high alert when he heard a knock at the door, and Suzaku barely had a chance to see the door open before Lelouch had his hands over his eyes, guiding his lumberjack towards the balcony where all the fruits of his labor were elegantly displayed. 

Lelouch dropped his hands and laid them over Suzaku’s shoulders when he murmured silkily into the brunette’s ear, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” 

Suzaku stood there in surprised silence for a handful of moments, staring in confused awe at the wide array of indulgences, the impossible errand Lelouch had sent him on still held loosely in his hand. He’d been a fool.

But he just laughed about it, turning his smile on his  _ ridiculous  _ lover. There was  _ so much  _ crammed onto this small balcony, so many things Suzaku liked or loved or couldn’t get enough of. Lelouch remembered them all and Suzaku never felt worthy of this kind of attention. But he did it every year. “I don’t know why I thought it was just the room this year. It’s never just the room.”

Lelouch was doing his  _ absolute very best  _ to hold onto his smile, “Please don’t tell me you would have been happier with just the room. Please.” 

That made Suzaku laugh again, but this time he followed it up by looping a hand around the back of Lelouch’s neck and pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

It was always weird, Goku thought, when he went wandering off and Sanzo didn’t follow. It happened sometimes, not often, and Goku usually noticed pretty quickly, but this was the second time in the same month that Sanzo had disappeared on him and Goku hadn’t been able to find him for a while. He was sort of back-tracking his whole day trying to figure out where Sanzo’d gone, listening to the energy of the earth and trying to sense Sanzo’s power but his wayward lover wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Until he suddenly was. 

Goku had been halfway through calling Sanzo’s name when the vision of a tableful of meat buns stopped him in his tracks. It was beautiful. Had Sanzo done this for him? Where was he? “Sanzo?...”

Said priest came walking around the corner for the last piece of the display, some kind of fancy, peachy cheesecake thing that came highly recommended. He ignored the calling of his name to set it down before he looked over at Goku properly. Surprise was a good start. “Figured this was better than my cooking,” Sanzo announced with a shrug. 

Goku… didn’t think he wanted to agree out loud, but while Sanzo wasn’t the  _ worst  _ cook he’d ever tasted, he wasn’t that great either. Still, Goku wasn’t about to insult the man who was feeding him, so he just walked up to his boyfriend with a grateful smile and wrapped his arms about Sanzo’s waist. After a thousand or so years, Goku could wait a couple of minutes to consume an entire table full of meat buns.

Oh, but he was going to  _ love  _ consuming an entire table of meat buns.

And whatever that cake was.

_ Definitely  _ the cake thing.

“You really did this for me?” There wasn’t a doubt in Goku’s mind, but he  _ really  _ wanted to hear Sanzo say it, if he would.

“Hn,” It was Sanzo’s turn to share in the surprise when Goku did  _ not  _ immediately go for the first edible thing in reach. His hands were itching for a cigarette, like it might provide the distraction he needed to get out of the sappy questions, but some of Cupid’s words came back to him, and one of those hands gently ran through chocolate strands instead. “....yeah. I…” Shit this was almost harder than hauling back all those meat buns. He’d been around the block a few hundred years now, the whole articulating feelings thing still tripped him up. If he couldn’t use his own words, maybe he could borrow Seifer’s. “You’re a good monkey.” 

Goku snickered, ducking his head but smiling so broad. Seriously?  _ That’s  _ what Sanzo was going to say? But it was… It was really fucking sweet and Sanzo was almost  _ never  _ sweet and he was being sweet right now just for Goku. He could tell the departure was hard for him and those meat buns were calling his name, so Goku quickly looked back up to meet his sun’s gaze.

“I love you.”

Then promptly turned on the table and annihilated those meat buns.

Squall was well aware of what day it was. He knew Seifer was trying to be subtle about it, but Squall couldn’t help but keep track of Valentine’s Day and the spirit who governed it every time it came around. 

They had  _ met  _ on Valentine’s Day after all. It was the only one they had spent together until this one. 

The idea of sparring for it seemed non-traditional, but appropriate. He willingly brought out Lionheart and away they went on the sand. The crackling of thunder in the distance only made it more thrilling. In times like these he did miss his soul, because while he could tell his body was experiencing the rush, it didn’t quite translate in his mind. But even dulled, Squall loved the feeling and he went at Seifer with everything he had left in him. 

Up until he couldn’t. It wasn’t his own physical limitations that stopped him, but the  _ rain.  _ It was pouring so heavily now, he could barely see his opponent, little more than a mass of tan and white. 

Reluctantly, he dropped Lionheart and grumbled to his partner, “I can’t fucking see.” 

Seifer had to agree. Fuuma seemed to have overdone it. He left Hyperion in hand however, because Squall, in battle, wasn’t to be trusted. 

“It’s a fierce storm,” Seifer relented, voice raised over the sound of rain, “My wings are almost useless in this. But do you want to go inside?”

Squall took a moment to catch his breath and looked up at the raging sky. Even if he couldn’t see much, the onslaught of water and the crackling thunder was calming to the sea witch. He shook his head, “No. Just… To be continued?” 

“Whenever you want,” Seifer assured, finally deeming it safe to sheath Hyperion. He could see Squall in the rain… if he could keep the rain out of his eyes. Every time he blinked the raindrops away, more would cascade over his lashes. It was never ending and so thick it might as well be whole sheets falling from the sky, not drops at all. 

But it seemed right that Squall wanted to stay out in it, when all other sane creatures would be running for shelter. 

Formalities taken care of, Squall put away Lionheart as well, and then the sky had his full attention. It’d been quite some time since there had been a storm this bad on the islands. The undine tilted his head back to enjoy it, a hand threaded through his bangs half to keep his hair out of his face and half to shield his eyes. 

It took him a minute to remember anyone else was with him. “You don’t have to stay out with me,” Squall offered suddenly. He assumed heavy water on wings was about as pleasant as dry heat on scales.

“I want to,” Seifer replied just as readily, “I’d  _ like  _ to.” He wasn’t the type to suffer if it really bothered him, and his wings weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as that. Feathers weren’t hurt by water, just weighed down by it. They were going to come out of this downpour so very clean. 

He didn’t want to leave Squall. His plan had been to spend the day with Squall and heavier than expected rainfall didn’t change that. Every moment today belonged to Squall and if he wanted to spend them standing in the rain, well, that wasn’t so different from usual. Seifer had no room to complain.

There was no way Seifer actually wanted to stay for the  _ rain.  _ Squall could read between the lines that much. Looking around, their options for some form of protection were limited and he doubted employing Cupid’s wings as umbrellas was all that comfortable. The sea witch took a few steps towards the other man where he could see him better and grabbed his arm, “We can watch from under the dock.” 

Seifer gave token resistance, because he didn’t mind the idea, kind of liked it even, but, “You want to stand out in the rain though, don’t you?”

“I can still do it by the docks. It’s better on the water anyway. Come on,” Squall tugged on Seifer’s arm like he wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

This time, Seifer allowed himself to be led. They were both stubborn assholes, but it made no sense to fight this. In fact, it was sweet in a rough way that Squall was thinking about him this much. Cupid would take it for what it was. 

He was guided to their destination like Squall was on a mission and unknowingly hadn’t let go of the winged man the entire time. There was even a moment of extra cling as they cautiously made their way down the sloping, wet sand and under the cover of metal beams. Only when Squall could see clearly again did he let Seifer go and tread out to the edge of the dock’s cover, reaching a hand out into the heavy rain. Out in the distance he noticed one gray fin on the choppy waves and it should have been enough to make him smile if he could remember how. “Shiva will have fun today.” 

Seifer hardly noticed the touching himself. Dragging each other around was becoming commonplace, and only when he thought about it did he realize what a step forward it was. But he wasn’t thinking about it now. “It’s odd, being jealous of a shark.”

“Her life is beautiful in it’s simplicity,” Squall agreed, “I’d be jealous too.” 

Seifer barked a laugh, turning his gaze back to the man he loved, “I meant, jealous of your affection for her.”

Squall didn’t see what was so funny. “I thought you liked her too.”

“I do,” Seifer was a little offended that Squall thought he might not, after everything, “I can like her and still be jealous of the way you love her more than me. I can’t even really resent her for it, because it’s not like it’s her fault. I’m who fucked up, not the shark.”

It was more fucked up to think that Squall wouldn’t even  _ have  _ Shiva if Seifer hadn’t fucked up. The brunette chose not to focus on that fact. He pointed out the obvious instead, “I’m not with Shiva right now.” 

Seifer couldn’t allow himself to read too far into that. It was too much like naive hope, and this situation was painful enough without disappointment. He could feel the desire to believe in it threatening to overcome his good sense, so he spoke to shut it down, “That seems more like Shiva’s choice than yours though, right?”

Squall had to wonder what Seifer was driving at, and turned to frown at the other male. “If I wanted Shiva to come here, she would be here.”

“Yeah, but…” Seifer didn’t know what Squall was getting at, either. He just… wasn’t ready to believe anything other than that Squall wanted to be alone and Seifer wasn’t letting him, or that Squall was keeping him around for the spar. There was just no way that Squall was desiring Seifer’s company. Not because it was impossible, but because if Seifer chose to believe that and then Squall shot him down again, it would hurt, and Cupid didn’t want to hurt on Valentine’s day. 

Squall just shook his head and went back to staring out at the water. Rain was a lot simpler to understand than… whatever Seifer’s problem was. “If you want to feel jealous over my shark, I won’t stop you. But she’s not here.” 

Did Squall no longer understand how jealousy worked, now that he had no soul? Seifer tried looking out at the rain, distracting himself from the creeping upset, but it didn’t work and he gave in, turning back to stare at the beautiful man beside him. The beautiful man who couldn’t understand him. 

“Love isn’t limited by distance.”

That was a truth Squall knew all too well. He’d hated how his heart had still beat for the man that left him in the blink of an eye, continued to beat with increasing pain as the days passed. It had nothing to do with jealousy though, at least not that he  _ knew  _ of. The undine shifted under Seifer’s stare and crossed his arms over his chest. “Was there anyone you spent this day with… after me?” 

Cupid shrugged, embarrassed to answer, because he wasn’t sure what answer Squall was looking for and Valentine’s wasn’t his favorite day. “I worked them mostly, trying to undo the damage this holiday always does. But sometimes I would just hide away from it in Pitch’s lair. He was never seeing anyone before, so I never had to worry about him pestering the shit out of me for romantic advice. That’s been a thing since the invention of the holiday, though. Not specifically since… you. That… was a unique year.”

Squall’s expression hardened and he gripped his own arms a bit tighter feeling his chest clench again, as it tended to do often when Seifer was around. Still he had to agree, “Yeah.. It was,” but ‘unique’ would not have been the first word he’d use to describe it. 

Seifer didn’t like the way Squall was closing up. He didn’t know how to make his answer any better, so he fished around for anything else that he could offer. Anything at all that might make Squall relax again. He thought about the rain. He thought about why they were here. 

“We can see under the dock,” he said quickly, hopefully, “We could spar under here.”

Squall blinked out of his thoughts to scan over all the uneven terrain, complete with scattered rocks, slippery sand, and the occasional harsh gusts of wind. “It’d be a bad idea. You really want to?” 

“I…” No, not really. Seifer would much rather cuddle. “I want to do whatever you want to do.”

“I’m fine watching the storm,” although his steely blue eyes were focused quite intently on Seifer’s, “What do you  _ actually  _ want to do?” 

That was a good question. Seifer thought he knew, his instinct whispering words about making Squall happy, but with a start, he realized he’d fallen into the same trap Lelouch and Jack were struggling to climb out of. He was making things terribly complicated, trying to cater to a man who didn’t care to be catered to. Squall was as happy as he ever was, standing here watching the rain, and it was Seifer looking for more from it all.

What more did he want? What did he  _ actually  _ want to do? Seifer’s eyes hadn’t left Squall the whole time, but it wasn’t until this moment that he really took him in. His clothes were soaked, beads of water clinging to his chest, hair hanging limp over his eyes and around his…  _ beautiful,  _ gemstone ears. That gaze was as fierce as ever, the storm enchanting as always, and all Seifer wanted…

The God of Love leaned in and kissed him.

Squall really needed to start recognizing when Seifer got that  _ look _ about him. To be fair, it’d been a little while since Cupid surprised him with kisses, and Squall found that he didn’t really mind it right now. Seifer was willing to stay out in the rain with him, so Squall was willing to indulge him a little bit with physical attention. It brought back memories, or  _ fantasies _ , he used to have over the idea of spending Valentine’s Day with Cupid himself someday… 

None of them were anything like this. 

Squall tilted his head and let his eyes fall closed. 

Jack woke slowly, which was a terrible sign because it meant he was well-rested, which meant he overslept. He  _ meant  _ to wake up super early. Pitch was always up early, so Jack  _ needed  _ to be super early if he wanted to make him morning tea, but…

Jack gazed up at the beautiful steampunk clock and sighed. It was mid-morning. He wasn’t at all surprised that the bedding beside him was cold. He totally missed his chance at surprise tea,  _ but  _ he still had his bow. Pitch was elsewhere right now and expected to find Jack asleep under the covers  _ without  _ a pretty bow when he came back. Instead Jack resolved, as he jumped out of the globe and ran to his super secret hiding spot that Pitch only didn’t know about because Jack gave him no reason to be suspicious of it, he would come back to find an alluringly naked Jack splayed out over the covers artfully posed with his decency kept by only a bright blue bow.

Jack wouldn’t have to stay that way for long. Pitch could always sense the stirring of the shadows in his lair, and that meant it was time to wrap up his ridiculous breakfast preparations already. 

Stuffing French toast with oreos was possible but  _ messy.  _ It took the Boogeyman a bit of extra time to make a clean, presentable plate, and then make  _ himself  _ clean and presentable in his naked glory topped off with a sleek little black bow around his neck. Pitch had no reason to doubt Seifer’s judgement. He assembled his tray, a vanilla caramel latte this time with cookie straw, French toast, syrup container, he even went and got strawberries for garnish and he made the arrangement damn pretty. Now it was showtime.

But when he slipped back through the shadows, creeping up from beneath the globe looking nothing more than a black ghost with gold eyes carrying a very real offering of food, Pitch’s dramatics came to a screeching halt when he was met with  _ Jack’s  _ dramatics. 

He re-materialized and nearly dropped his damn tray. 

Jack wasn’t supposed to be awake yet, but he  _ was _ , and in terms of appetizing, his breakfast was little better than  _ garbage  _ compared to the display the winter Guardian made. That blue bow… It was in the way, but there was something  _ sexy  _ about it being the only thing on Jack’s beautiful body and was Seifer just recycling all of his advice this year?... 

Not important. Jack looked good enough to  _ eat  _ with his arms and legs positioned like a work of art so erotic… The look he was giving his boyfriend was nothing short of  _ predatory.  _ “My my my…” he purred, holding his tray off to the side to step closer and get a better look at this most  _ generous  _ gift, “What do we have here?” 

Jack held back most of his surprise, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from widening at the sight of Pitch Black in nothing but a…  _ bow.  _

Immediately, Lelouch’s words surfaced in his mind. The what if that was supposed to be  _ very  _ improbable was suddenly reality and Jack really hadn’t believed that he and Pitch thought the same…

They didn’t. There were a lot of things they agreed upon, but they planned completely differently. This had all the signs of a set up to it, but Jack found he didn’t mind at all.

“Naked tea time.”

“ _ Hm,  _ I didn’t have time to put any tea on,” Pitch smirked, lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the bed. He was  _ dying  _ to reach out and touch his lover, but he wanted to at least present Jack with  _ something  _ before he jumped him, “But if you’re thirsty, I have your coffee.” 

Jack had noticed, but his urge to make a great first impression overrode his desire to discover whatever Pitch had made him.

That was over, now.

With an eager little sound, Jack threw himself up into a sitting position and reached for the tray, grabbing up the coffee and taking a grateful sip.  _ “Mmm,  _ fuck, so good,” he moaned, eyes closed in his bliss, but then he opened them to smile at his lover, “Don’t worry, naked tea time isn’t about the  _ tea.”  _

“Oh good, because it’s really not tea I want in my mouth,” the Boogeyman grinned deviously, though his eyes seemed a bit unfocused. Or too focused. What a tease it was to sit there and watch Jack moan when he was all dressed up for him. Already he was picturing what it was going to be like when he fucked Jack with that adorable little bow on… 

Jack wiggled a little when he noticed those eyes so far down his body, to make the bow glint and shine, of course. It was the  _ bow  _ he wanted bouncing in the light.

This was a fun game.

“So what did you make me?”

Pitch’s enchantment with that bow was not unlike a cat’s with a laser pointer. He still wasn’t meeting Jack’s eyes when he said, “French toast,” and moved the tray closer to him.

Jack was snickering when he took the tray and briefly considered laying it over his lap just to be a tease. But then he decided leaving the bow uncovered was a better tease and set it down beside him. “Stuffed?”

Finally something clued Pitch into the fact that it was time to stop eyefucking his boyfriend so that they might get closer to  _ actual  _ fucking. Also, he’d kind of worked hard on that breakfast. He offered Jack the fork like it was a ceremonial tool. “Why should I ruin the surprise? Find out for yourself.” 

Jack tried to smile as he reached for the fork, but it felt more like a smirk. He liked Pitch’s surprises, and he was sure this would be no different. The Guardian held Pitch’s gaze as he took the utensil, as he lifted the plate, as he cut into the toast… 

But then he had to look down and see what the stuffing wa- “Oh my God, are those  _ oreos?!”  _

Yeah, Pitch thought as he donned a smug smirk of his own, he  _ was _ that good. It was exactly the reaction he wanted and therefore  _ more _ than worth the utter mess he’d made in his kitchen. Pitch leaned in so he could place a gentle kiss against Jack’s temple. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Snow Angel.”

Jack nodded readily, eyes alight with joy as he replied, “I love you, Pitch,” but it was muffled by the french toast stuffed with oreos that was already in his mouth.

That was okay, Pitch got the message. The smile wouldn’t leave his face as he slid in comfortably next to Jack, careful not to disturb the tray on the other side of him. An arm crept its way around the younger spirit’s waist, seemingly innocuous like he was planning to wait for Jack to finish his meal, and he  _ was _ … but as his fingers traced little circles into pale skin, his eyes couldn’t help but fall back to that shiny blue bow. “I’m going to venture a guess that you talked to Cupid.” 

There was no point in hiding it and Jack wasn’t embarrassed about it. Especially since Pitch obviously had, too. He did bother to swallow before speaking this time, because it was a special day and Jack could afford to be polite to the man who made him  _ oreo stuffed french toast,  _ “Apparently we all do this time of year.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t,” Pitch reached over with his other hand to run the back of his fingers down Jack’s cheek, just because he could, “But we found each other anyway. I think you win the creativity points with the bow.”

“I dunno,” Jack chuckled, eyeing the bow on Pitch’s neck, then his chest, his jawline, shoulders,  _ body  _ appreciatively, “You did pretty well, too.”

Oh what those eyes  _ did  _ to him. If Jack kept looking at him like that, Pitch wasn’t going to be able to remain patient for long. Or he was going to up his creativity by testing how well Jack could eat French toast and get sucked off at the same time. For now he channeled his lust into leaning in and nibbling at Jack’s ear, “I’ll do even better next year.” 

Jack sucked in a deep, relaxed breath and hummed his pleasure, “Lelouch tells me that’s a dangerous rabbit hole to fall into.”

“What is?” Pitch purred low and deep into the ear he was teasing, “Wanting to continue filling our eternity together with surprises?”

“That,” Jack agreed, nuzzling against Pitch’s face to ease the tickling that purr was forcing on his ear, “and the whole bigger and better every year thing. You don’t have to do  _ better  _ next year, Pumpkin. I just want to have more fun with you.”

Pitch ceased his teasing so he could nuzzle his boyfriend back and enjoy the way their proximity made him shiver, “Then I suppose I should say, we’ll have even  _ more  _ fun next year?”

“Love it,” Jack laughed, glad Pitch understood where he was coming from so easily, “That’s perfect, Pitch.”

If it was good enough for Jack, it was good enough for Pitch. He gave the Guardian another kiss atop his head and murmured just behind his ear, “I’ll be quiet so you can actually enjoy your food now. We’ll play when you’re finished.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Jack stabbed his fork into his french toast, “We’ll play when you can’t resist me, anymore.”

“I’d definitely be having an excruciating time with that if I wasn’t at least touching you right now.” 

That was sweet, and probably very true. Jack held up a forkful of french toast for Pitch, if he wanted it, “Touch me all you like, Babe.”

“If I did that, you wouldn’t be able to hold onto your damn fork,” Pitch informed very  _ seriously,  _ just before going in for that little bite. 

“Or I’d hold onto it too tightly,” Jack nodded in mock-seriousness, cutting himself off another piece, “It’s hard to predict that kind of thing.”

“Mm,” Pitch agreed, licking his lips once he’d swallowed, “...That’s actually not bad for being layers upon layers of sugar.”

“And carbs,” Jack reminded studiously, “Don’t forget the carbs. The delicious,  _ delicious  _ carbs…” He trailed off as his gaze fell adoringly to his plate and he took another forkful into his mouth.

The Boogeyman chuckled,  _ loving  _ the way Jack looked so pleased with his work. If that was his only reward, Pitch would be happy, no matter the protest from his dick. “Fear not, we’ll work them off when I rigorously fuck you.” 

Jack snorted, “It’s going to take, like,  _ ten  _ fucks to work this off, Pitch. I don’t really want to think about how many calories are in this.”

“Ten fucks…” Pitch repeated with a curious sort of wonder, up until it morphed into something dark and mischievous, “I accept this challenge.” 

Jack stared at Pitch as his expression changed with a dawning horror, flavored with the Nightmare King’s special brand of  _ excitement,  _ “My head is like,  _ ‘Fuck yeah!’  _ But my ass is, like,  _ ‘Oh shit…’”  _

Pitch smirked and squeezed around Jack’s waist like they could  _ possibly  _ be any closer, “We’ll give your ass a rest every third round and make up for it with a particularly physical handjob. Or blowjob. Or rimjob. Whatever sort of job you’re in the mood for.”

Jack was officially swayed. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t haggle, “Every other round. It only makes sense.”

The Shadowman had the audacity to  _ pout  _ at such a counter offer, “That immediately reduces my time inside of you by  _ half _ …” 

Jack made sure his eyes were wide and bright when he cleaned off his fork and pointed out, “Baby, your fingers and tongue count when they’re inside me.”

Pitch  _ almost  _ fell for it, but he had some pretty vivid memories to argue back, “There’s a difference and you’re well aware of it.” 

“There’s a  _ difference,”  _ Jack rolled his eyes, “and that’s why I want to switch it up so often. Ten is the goal, Sugar, not the limit.”

Pitch… could have argued again, but there was no point to it. Bottom line, somehow, someway they were going to have lots of sex. And even though he was fairly certain Jack would be passed out somewhere around round five, there was no way he was going to come out of this ‘challenge’ unsatisfied. Also, it was Valentine’s Day. There was no room for arguments on a day that was meant to be spent spoiling his new lover. So the shade sighed and relented, “Whatever you want, Darling. You know I’ll give it to you.” 

Jack looked nothing but smug as he licked his fork, “Why you bother arguing with me at all is a mystery.”

“A Nightmare King does still have his occasional wants,” Pitch rolled his shoulders in lazy shrug, “But number one will always be making his Ice Prince happy.” 

“You're such a sap,” Jack teased and leaned over for a playful kiss, “I'm just being realistic, Pumpkin. I'm not trying to ruin your fun on purpose.”

“That wouldn’t be very Jack Frost of you,” Pitch concurred, nipping at the forever-teen’s especially sweet bottom lip, “I suppose I can’t render you too sore anyway, if you fancy going out later.”

“Going out?” Jack kept his smile, but he couldn't help the suspicious note creeping in at the edge. Pitch might not have meant anything by it, but the way he said it like it was a certainty made Jack think there was a  _ plan.  _ He rested one hand at the side of his lover’s neck and toyed idly with the lobe of his ear, “Now why would I be wanting to go out later, I wonder?”

Pitch couldn’t decide if that was too ticklish or not, but he liked Jack’s hands on him too much to do anything but lean into those fingers. “It’s your choice. If you think a change of scenery might be  _ fun  _ today _ ,  _ all you have to do is take my hand and tell me you’re ready.”

“How cryptic,” the Guardian commented lightly. Pitch  _ obviously  _ had a plan. Jack was curious to find out what it was. But first, they had breakfast and sex, and Jack took another bite of edible Heaven.

“I thought you  _ liked  _ that about me,” Pitch snuck in to whisper against Jack’s ear, walking his fingers up along the Guardian’s side.

“I like a lot of things about you,” Jack answered easily, swaying to the side so he could fit a forkful of toast between them. Apparently Jack felt like being a terrible tease today.

Which wasn’t different from most days really, but Pitch did have to wonder if he was losing his touch. Or if the bow thing was as ridiculous as he initially suspected. “We wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.” The only reason he took the bite of toast was to help clear that plate sooner. He even grabbed one of the strawberries afterwards to chase down the amount of  _ sweet  _ on his tongue. 

That strawberry gave Jack  _ ideas  _ and he leaned back into Pitch's side, fingers creeping along his lover's chest the same way Pitch had just done to him. Jack tilted his head up ad parted his lips in an obvious invitation to be hand fed.

…

It wasn’t exactly  _ strawberries _ Pitch wanted to push into those perfect lips, but then he thought the stain of red might contrast all of Jack’s blue  _ beautifully _ so he held the half eaten piece of fruit to them. Molten eyes were just as enchanted by his lover’s face as he had been his crotch. 

Naked tea time was the best, Jack decided, as he wrapped his lips around the sweet berry and took a juicy bite. This moment was perfect, with Pitch’s attention all on him and delicious food on his tongue, with a whole day of fun and surprises to look forward to and a pretty little bow around Pitch’s neck. 

Jack plucked another strawberry from the plate, nibbled the end off, and then ceremonially offered his berry to Pitch. His turn.

Jack did so love his fair play. Pitch smirked,  _ reluctantly  _ taking his eyes off the other male to look at the berry, and drew it into his mouth with his tongue before he took his bite. He made a small little groaning noise as he finished it, and listed forward to touch their foreheads together, “I really  _ don’t  _ mean to rush you, but you’ve got me incredibly horny right now…” 

There was no way Jack wouldn’t smile when he heard those words. “Well, don’t let  _ me  _ stop you,” nor could he help the smug way he picked up his plate and settled back against the cushions, for all the world looking like he meant to stay there awhile. “Go ahead,” he offered, his mischievous gaze dropping quickly to Pitch’s proud cock, God, it was beautiful, and back up again, “Take the edge off. Touch yourself.”

Pitch was struck by the seemingly simple request. Fuck, he couldn’t  _ remember _ the last time he pleasured himself like that. Even in the months leading up to his courting Jack Frost, while he was guilty of an erotic dream here or there, he’d never ...taken matters into his own hands. Convinced that such feelings were better off repressed, he’d waited or willed away every unwanted erection. 

_ This _ erection wasn’t unwanted, and stars above, Jack wanted to  _ watch  _ him take care of it. Gods… His cock was fully  _ up  _ to the task in a matter of seconds, a gentle flush spreading through his gray skin. 

Well, if there was one thing Pitch knew he was good at, it was putting on a show. 

_ 1... _

It hurt a little bit to untangle himself from Jack’s person, but it was necessary so he could settle into a kneeling position between his lover’s legs, a full display for him to see. “My hand is going to be nowhere  _ near  _ cold enough,” he grinned, voice low and soft when his long fingers slowly began to trail along the underside of the shaft. 

Jack had to adjust his sprawl to make room for Pitch. Somehow he'd thought the shade would just reach down and go for it, but Jack should have known better. He  _ did  _ know better when it came to his hands, though. Pitch's hands were perfectly perfect just the way they were. “Sometimes it's nice to be warm.”

“Sometimes,” Pitch curled a loose fist around himself, stroking just enough to make his breath hitch but still converse, “But I’m addicted to your brand of cold…”

Jack’s eyes were glued to those hands, and what those hands were doing, and what was under those hands… The Guardian shifted in his seat, pulling his plate up higher as if his dick needed more room to swell in. It  _ felt  _ like it needed more room, like it was getting  _ so hard.  _

As if in a dream, Jack cut off another piece of toast and brought it to his lips, but it was mechanized, automatic, his attention not on the sweetness in his mouth but the candy for his eyes. Pitch wanted cold? Jack could do that, sliding his feet along either side of his lover, the frostling twined their legs by folding his calves over Pitch’s ankles behind him. Whatever his intentions, they could never keep apart for long.

The temperature shift was felt instantly, and Pitch had never been so grateful for the shiver that rippled up along his spine. He liked that they were caught up in each other again too, that he could see that bow better, and more of the flesh that was hiding. Of course the way that Jack was  _ staring  _ was actively countering all that extra cold. It was such a turn on that he gripped himself tighter on the upstroke, made himself gasp, and couldn’t stop the way his eyes fluttered closed and his unoccupied hand gripped at the bedding. This was… a lot sexier than he thought it’d be, and when he re-opened his eyes, he groaned and offered his boyfriend a lazy smirk, “ _ Mmm _ … That feels  _ much  _ better…” 

Jack gasped in time with Pitch, as tuned into his lover as he was. He groaned when Pitch groaned and found himself mindlessly chewing his toast, licking his lips and smoothing the cream around with his tongue just to feel the texture. It didn’t take long for his hips to begin rocking in time with Pitch’s hand, even though Jack couldn’t feel it at all. He could just  _ see  _ it and that was…  _ really  _ doing it for him.

Pitch was  _ enthralled  _ with this effect he was having on his lover, almost like Jack was a puppet on a string and he was controlling it with his  _ dick.  _ It might have been amusing in another context, but right  _ now…  _

He gave himself another firm pump, used his thumb and forefinger to squeeze the tip, and moaned when his hips jerked forward, fucking into his own hand. “ _ Gods,  _ Jack, I’m so  _ hard _ …”  

“Me too, Baby,” Jack murmured, barely loud enough to hear. He didn’t even know if it was true. He hadn’t touched himself, hadn’t even  _ looked  _ at himself. All of his attention was on Pitch and what Pitch was doing to himself, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“ _ You’re  _ making me this way,” Pitch insisted in a rush of air, lurching forward so he was hovering over Jack, closer to him but still not close  _ enough.  _ His hand was moving faster now, up and down, his breaths heavier, eyes barely open, “You should see yourself right now…  _ Nngh,  _ the things I want to  _ do  _ to you…” 

Jack’s plate was hastily shoved aside. It was  _ in the way.  _ Panting hard, he pushed a hand through his hair as if he didn’t know what to do with himself then slid down in the bed until he was on his back, until his legs couldn’t fit unless they were bent and open around Pitch’s hips. He swallowed thickly and made the decision his body had already decided for him, “Fuck me.  _ God,  _ Pitch,  _ fuck me!”  _

“ _ Shit _ ,” Pitch cursed and immediately stilled his hand, otherwise he was going to come  _ all over  _ Jack and his pretty bow. He wasn’t prepared for his fantasy to become reality so  _ seamlessly  _ like that. A moment of recovery was necessary, a moment of recognizing they were going to spill the entire fucking breakfast on the bed with how hard he was going to pound into Jack, and where was the damn  _ lube?  _

Pitch couldn’t be bothered with so many details. A blunt command was given to the shadows to take care of the tray and plate while he stuck a couple fingers in his mouth to get them slickened up before he pushed them into his boyfriend’s eager passage. Gods... As if he needed the extra visual. “I don’t know how I’m going to be gentle with you…” 

“Self-preservation,” Jack gasped, rolling his hips onto Pitch’s fingers and relaxing as much and as fast as he could make himself. The frostling offered a teasing grin, “You’re going to be gentle because you want to fuck me four more times.”

“And I’m going to want to fuck you hard each of those four times too,” the shade groaned, fingers moving quickly to stretch and probe and  _ search _ when he curled them along those soft inner walls…

Jack shuddered and moaned, kicking his feet out into a more relaxed position now that Pitch was touching far more than his legs. “Shit, Pitch,  _ fuck,”  _ he cried, arching his back, then pressing it flat, then wrapping his legs tight around Pitch’s waist, “Just do it! Get  _ in me!”  _

Pitch didn’t have it in him to argue. Two barely lubed up fingers was going to have to do despite the whole being  _ gentle  _ debate. He eased his fingers out, used a bit more saliva for his cock, and then he was diving in, using whatever willpower he had left to do it  _ gradually.  _ Fuck, it  _ felt  _ tighter than usual and Pitch was as concerned as he was  _ excited  _ to be gripped so snugly. His hand might as well have been a gentle breeze by comparison. “ _ Jack,  _ oh….  _ Mm _ , tell me if it’s too much…” 

_ “Hnng,”  _ Jack was breathing hard when he remembered to breathe, legs squirming higher on Pitch’s waist with every inch he took in. “It’s a little too much, but keep going, I like it,” he said in a rush.

Were he able to comprehend it, Pitch would have accused Jack of playing games to purposefully sabotage their sex. Of course, he  _ couldn’t  _ comprehend it, so Pitch just moaned and happily kept pushing inside until he was buried, one hand helping to hold Jack’s leg and the other bracing himself near Jack’s shoulder. A quick glance gave him another helping of that bow, and the dick  _ clearly  _ poking through the satin folds, and Pitch’s hips snapped. His  _ control  _ snapped. He started fucking Jack at a steady, medium pace right from the get go and  _ hoped  _ he wasn’t also fucking over the next four rounds he wanted. “ _ Gods,  _ Jack, you’re gorgeous…” 

_ “Mmm,”  _ Jack laughed, but it was breathless. He felt so good, even with the sting and burn of too little prep and too little lube, and it made him giddy. Enough to joke with a gasped breath, “Yes, tell me how pretty I am.”

“You’re perfect,” Pitch purred, though he could  _ tell  _ he was being mocked. He retaliated with a sharp thrust and reached in to grab Jack’s dick while he did it, pumping the same way he’d just been doing to himself, “A damn  _ brat,  _ but so perfect.”

Jack cried out, wholly unprepared for that but loving it all the same. He threw his head back even as his feet scrambled for purchase, against the sheets, against Pitch, wherever they could press that would hold them,  _ “God,  _ Pitch… You say the sweetest things to me.”

With the knowledge that Jack could still form  _ words,  _ Pitch decided he could pick up his pace,  _ continue  _ with those deep thrusts that felt so  _ good  _ on his cock, and pump his fist in time. It didn’t matter how much Jack teased him for it, he’d pour compliments all over his lover like the cream in his coffee.  “You know I mean every word,” he panted, bowing his head down into the crook of Jack’s neck.

One pale hand came up to clutch at the back of Pitch’s neck, to hold him there, to hold Jack to this earth, but instead it held a sleek satin ribbon, and Jack made a terribly undignified sound at the reminder that Pitch was wearing a little bow for him, too. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”

“ _ Come _ , come for me…. _ ahh _ ,” the Nightmare King commanded breathlessly, so impossibly turned on by the sounds that were coming out of Jack and nearing his own end because of it. Fuck, he wanted it, but  _ Jack first,  _ always Jack first, and Pitch rolled his hips to make the angle  _ just  _ right, “Come all over that pretty ribbon of yours…!”

Jack was thoroughly, privately embarrassed that it was the bow that did it. He should not have been so turned on by it, but just maybe they should try dressing up for each other more often. 

A shudder tore through Jack’s whole body as he cried out and came. He arched up into Pitch and clung with all four limbs to the Boogeyman when he lost control and the world went white. He felt- He felt  _ so good,  _ “Oh God,  _ Pitch…” _

Pitch didn’t make it much further past Jack’s cry. Between the other spirit watching him masturbate and the delicious treat that was Jack’s voice and  _ him  _ watching the way that bow was painted with Jack’s essence… It was too much stimuli. Too many things turning him on at once. When those walls spasmed around him, the Boogeyman muffled his own shout into Jack’s neck while his hips went on autopilot, shooting and  _ driving  _ his release as far deep into Jack as he could. He moaned through the process, melting down into his frosty lover, and for once,  _ stopped  _ his thrusts once he was empty. Round two was not to take place in Jack’s thoroughly conquered ass, and he’d play by the rules for as long as he could remember them. 

Jack's arms came around to hold Pitch close as he melted. That was hot. It was  _ still  _ hot. He would have to thank Seifer for the perfect set up later. Right now he was going to enjoy the way Pitch was draped like a lukewarm blanket over him. Everything was perfect. 

_ “Mmm,  _ Baby, that was amazing.”

“ _ You’re  _ amazing,” Pitch corrected in a sleepy murmur, eyes still closed as he basked in chilly afterglow tingling from head to toe. Only Jack could make him feel this  _ good… _ But he knew it came at a price. “Are you… Do you need me to pull out?” 

“Not yet,” Jack whispered right back. He didn't have the strength or drive for proper volume right now. “Not if you don't want to. I mean, we're not moving or anything…”

That settled, Pitch promptly nuzzled into his spot tucked under Jack’s chin and ran his fingers along the length of one of those arms around him, “I don’t want to. I like the way you feel…” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jack chuckled, running his fingers through Pitch’s hair, “But you’ll have to eventually. I don’t think your mouth can reach my dick like this.”

“Hmmm,” there was an  _ intrigued  _ tone to the shade’s voice, “You want me to clean you up?”, and he exaggerated the implication by dragging his tongue over Jack’s pulse. 

Jack whined, because honestly, that was the only proper response to that kind of thing. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Pitch was still enjoying being lethargic, but for his  _ valentine _ , he summoned the strength to prop himself up, and gently ease himself out so he was free to begin descending kisses along Jack’s chest, “As you wish, my Prince.”

_ 2... _

“You-” Jack squirmed, releasing his hold so his lover could shower him with affection more easily, “You don't have to start  _ now.  _ I don't know how fast I can get it up again…”

“I don’t even think you’re  _ down _ yet,” Pitch chuckled, swiping his tongue over a nipple, “But it’ll freeze if I don’t get it now.”

Jack sputtered unintelligibly because what else was he supposed to do when Pitch was talking about his  _ dick freezing?  _ “Oh my God, Pitch, I don't even know what to  _ say  _ to that…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Pitch solved that easily enough, continuing to move further down, “Let me worry about keeping your dick warm.” 

Jack snorted a laugh and covered his mouth in embarrassment. This was not normal sex talk, Jack was sure. But he would rather be laughing than truly nervous, so maybe that was Pitch’s plan. Or maybe Pitch made him this relaxed without trying. Jack may never know. “Alright, Pumpkin, guess I’ll just have to trust you.”

“Well I would  _ hope  _ you trust me by now,” Pitch murmured offhand while he was licking just below Jack’s navel, gray hands smoothing up and down his boyfriend’s thighs. Keeping Jack’s dick warm meant keeping him turned  _ on  _ and he was as good at doing that as he was getting him to laugh. 

“I trust you with all my heart,” the Guardian said honestly, giving Pitch a fond smile even as he tucked his hands behind his head in a proper lounge like the brat he was.

Pitch responded with an equally fond kiss on Jack’s skin. He’d never tire of hearing of the many ways he’d captured Jack’s heart, but in this case, his attention needed to be further down. And fuck. 

Somehow his spent cock managed to  _ twitch  _ when he took in the sight of white streaks amidst blue satin, with beautiful blue-tinted flesh nesting in the middle of it all. Pitch moaned quietly and went in for his first lick, over and past the tip where his tongue touched that stained bow, “My word, you came so  _ much _ , Jack,” he teased with a playful grin, “I don’t think this bow is ever going to be clean.” 

Factual statements were terrible because Jack just had to be contrary. His helpless moan came first though, clutching his own hair to maintain his pose, “I'm sure if we just swish it around in warm, soapy water…”

….For a Guardian of Fun, Jack sure knew how to take it  _ away  _ sometimes. Pitch sighed over his work, “Yes, and we could swish  _ you  _ around in warm, soapy water too. Shall I draw you a bath?” 

“Will you still suck me off in it?” the frostling was quick to ask.

Pitch’s smile was just slightly exasperated as he ran a finger down the part in question that Jack wanted him to suck on, “You know I’ll suck you off anywhere.” 

Jack swallowed thickly. It was a good joke, but the conversation was getting away from him. He didn't want to go anywhere. He wanted exactly what Pitch wanted to give him. 

So he reached up with his hands to grip the bars of the globe over his head and hooked a knee over his boyfriend's shoulder, “I'm good here.”

Pitch felt himself stirring  _ again  _ watching Jack get settled in, showing off some of that flexibility. He wondered how Jack might feel about being tied up someday… 

But not on a day when they were aiming to get through ten rounds. Pitch kissed Jack’s thigh and moved back in between them, picking up where he left off with his tongue so his finger could trace around the area where the bow was tied, “You make quite the picture right now, Jack.”

Jack couldn’t fucking help it, no matter how breathless or how much of a helpless whine was in his voice, “You should paint me like one of your french girls.”

Pitch bit him in the thigh. 

It made the Guardian of Fun laugh, throwing his head back with a bark of pure amusement at Pitch’s expense. That was too perfect, and it hurt, sure, but in a good way, a way that made his insides churn and skin tingle in remembrance. Still, “I’m not… I’m only joking a little bit. You  _ could  _ take a picture right now, if you wanted. I, um…” Jack didn’t understand why he was suddenly shy. Pitch saw him like this all the time. It wasn’t any different, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t own a camera,” Pitch mumbled into Jack’s skin, licking over his bite marks, “I’d  _ have  _ to paint you to capture you right now. And somehow I don’t think you could stay  _ still  _ for that long.” 

Jack tried for an unimpressed look, but he was feeling too good for it, too amused with Pitch. It was a fond look on his face when he tugged his hoodie over by the sleeve and dug through the pocket with one hand for his phone, brought up the camera, and tossed it down to Pitch, “There you go, Sugar.”

Pitch paused to eye the device that caused him so much annoyance. Why did it have to come in handy so often? Undeniably curious, he picked it up and watched with interest as Jack was displayed on the screen, blurry at first, but then focusing on his face. He just had to be so damn beautiful… 

Pitch’s thumb was about to hit the large button (because that had to be the right one, didn’t it?) when a thought occurred to him and he was immediately holding the phone off to the side where it couldn’t get its lense anywhere  _ near  _ his lover, “Hold on. I am  _ not  _ having any such picture of you like this end up on the web. This is meant only for  _ me.  _ How do I know it will stay that way?” 

Jack had been basking in the nervous excitement that came with behaving badly and knowing how much his lover wanted him when Pitch tore it all down with  _ possessiveness,  _ and honestly, Jack wasn’t sure if he was mad or not. “Well,  _ I  _ wasn’t planning on posting them anywhere. Were you?”

The Nightmare King gave Jack a  _ look,  _ because honestly, “I wouldn’t know  _ how.  _ But I don’t want to do it by accident either. And what if you lose your phone? If anyone were to see what I see….” he trailed off in a dark, dangerous tone. 

The frostling shrugged, “Then don’t take it, Pumpkin. I was just… offering, you know, something new. Something you could save and look back on.” To be fair, Jack didn’t know when Pitch would get a chance to do that, given the picture would be on  _ his  _ phone, but there was something about taking the picture at all that was fun, exciting,  _ thrilling.  _ But it wouldn’t be thrilling to make Pitch upset if it ever got out, not that Jack knew how  _ that  _ would happen, so he wasn’t going to push it. “You don’t have to.”

But Pitch hadn’t missed that look of wanton anticipation on Jack’s face under the camera’s eye, and how it was very much missing now. He sighed and brought the phone back, watching his boyfriend return to the screen. The thought of taking his Jack’s picture had been exciting for him too. Was he overthinking this? After all, it would be  _ wrong  _ to deny Jack his fun on Valentine’s Day…

Or any day. “Do you want me to, Jack?” He decided to ask with a faint smile, “You do look particularly stunning…”

“I, um,” the offer surprised him. Jack had already resigned himself to Pitch’s decision, and the whole thing was framed as a gift to Pitch. To have it turned on him made Jack pause, but not for long, “I kinda do. I mean, there’s no point if you don’t want them, but… I still kinda do.”

Pitch suspected as much. Smirking, he changed the angle of the phone so there was more of Jack in it. There was something of a forbidden feel to it, as if he was watching Jack through a window he wasn’t supposed to, and that in itself was worth playing with. He made sure the camera had enough clarity before he moved in with his other hand, giving his lover a gentle stroke as he coaxed him, “Well then, strike a pose for me, Gorgeous.” 

It took effort to keep his eyes open, but Jack managed as he reset his hands on the bars above him. Pitch was playing with him now, toying with all the ways to make Jack feel  _ good,  _ and that was… fine. Perfect. Because Jack liked it when Pitch took his time with him. He moaned a happy little sound and twisted his body into what he thought might be a more flattering, or more  _ teasing  _ angle, and made sure to look right into the camera lens for Pitch.

Pitch was quick to snap the first picture, which came complete with the little sound effect. The resulting image was a little blurry, though Jack’s eyes were so clear and icy blue… And then it was back to camera mode and this was dangerously easy. Pitch snapped another, “That’s good, Jack, so good,” and another when he rotated the phone, “Tilt your head towards me a bit-yes, like that,” and again when he worked a slow fist up and down Jack’s barely hard cock.

Jack relaxed in front of the camera, letting his pose melt away as his body rocked into Pitch’s hand. There were only so many photos of the same pose anyone would want, anyway. If he had to move, he might as well move naturally. “You should get a phone, Pitch… So I can send these to you.”

Pitch hummed at the idea, which wasn’t a bad one, but he was somewhat  _ distracted  _ transforming Jack’s image into the most erotic pixels anyone had ever seen, “Maybe… Would be convenient I suppose,” another click, “ _ Oh,  _ that was nice, close your eyes and don’t move,” a task he did not make easy because he was still massaging Jack’s cock, “Perfect. The way the shadows are hitting half of your body is breathtaking…” 

Jack chuckled but did as he was told, lying still… even if he had to bite his lip to do it. “Baby, you  _ control  _ those. My body can be bathed in shadows no matter how I lay if you want it to.”

“Yes I could make you fade into darkness if I wanted to, but why tamper with your natural beauty right here in this space?” Jack sure liked to argue the details in his fun. Or maybe just everything that came out of the Nightmare King’s mouth. Pitch didn’t mind a good debate occasionally, but was here and now, while he was taking lewd pictures and jerking his lover off, a good time? “All I’m saying is that you look  _ delicious _ . You can move now.”

With permission to move came a bold buck of Jack’s hips into Pitch’s hand. He couldn’t help it; Pitch’s strokes felt so fucking nice and Jack was never meant to be still. “If I look this delicious, just imagine how I  _ taste,”  _ he teased, twisting into a new position that was possibly the same as three twists ago but it didn’t matter, not really. As long as Pitch kept looking at him like that.

“ _ Mmm _ ,” Pitch hummed his pleasure like he  _ could  _ taste Jack on his tongue, his gaze momentarily dropping from the phone to watch what he was doing to his hand. ….And then he went and snapped a picture of that too, because why the Hell not, but also they were deleting these as soon as they were done having their fun. There was just something beautiful watching pale white writhe against ashen gray… 

Though nothing quite compared to Jack’s eyes and Pitch’s golden ones met them to counter with a little teasing of his own, “Is that what you’re thinking about right now, Jack? You still want my mouth wrapped tight around you, lapping up every last drop of your come?” 

Jack bit his lip again because  _ God damn.  _ He honestly wasn’t sure that was what he wanted right now, barely recovered and not properly hard yet, but Pitch made it  _ sound  _ like something he should want, and Jack… 

Jack really just wanted to keep listening to that smooth voice say terribly naughty things to him.

“I’m thinking about how  _ delicious  _ you  _ sound,  _ and how if you suck my cock, I won’t be able to hear you, anymore.”

Pitch chuckled softly. Jack and his accent kink… It was adorable and so worth abusing. His normal instinct would have been to lean down and talk right into the Guardian’s ear, but that would have been difficult to do with the camera. He  _ definitely  _ took another of Jack biting on his lip like that and was staring at the photo for the few seconds it remained on screen. “You may not be able to hear words, but you can still hear _ me _ . I can’t help but make noise when I taste you, whether I’m licking your cock or your ass.” 

Jack made a helpless little sound and arched his back, trying to get closer to Pitch without really moving at all. He caught the way Pitch was staring at that last photo. His boyfriend was just as into this as he was, and that made Jack love it just a little more, “Don’t stop talking.”

Pitch was  _ sure  _ that the little handheld device he was using couldn’t possibly encapsulate the entirety of how sexy his lover was. First and foremost because it couldn’t capture  _ sound,  _ unless they went from picture to video and oh Gods that-- was he actually thinking about making a sex video? 

...Not now. Maybe. The pictures were plenty arousing on their own. 

Pitch took a moment to collect himself, give Jack’s cock a nice pull, and waited for the  _ art  _ to unfurl in his bed. “Are you still thinking about it, Jack? My lips around you, pulling you in deep to feel the vibration in my throat? Or maybe… You  _ do  _ seem to like it in the ass more. Am I right, Jack? Do you like it when my tongue is flicking in and out of you, opening you up? Do you suppose if I did it right now, I’d taste  _ my  _ come?...” 

If Jack hadn’t just come, like, five minutes ago, he would be coming right now. Like, on the fucking spot because  _ holy shit,  _ did Pitch just  _ say  _ that? Jack could not, in good faith, stay still after hearing something like that and he was sitting up before he realized, reaching for his lover with both arms and pulling him up into a desperate kiss, because Pitch needed, absolutely  _ needed  _ to know how much Jack loved him right now.

Pitch nearly fell backwards with Jack rushing at him since he  _ refused  _ to let go of what was in both of his hands. But oh stars, if Jack knew what it did to him when he got worked into a frenzy like this… The Boogeyman kissed back just as ruthlessly, making up for his lack of arms with frantic lips and teeth and when his tongue got involved, he was flicking it against Jack’s in the very same way he’d just been describing. Pitch  _ loved  _ this, loved every emotion he could taste in his boyfriend’s mouth and he managed to spare enough thought to snap a picture of this moment too, the both of them intimately locked with such passion for one another. He couldn’t spare enough to review the picture, however, and as soon as it was taken, he wrapped that arm around Jack’s middle, pulling their bodies close enough together that he could use the other hand to grab both of their cocks and stroke. 

Jack had to be honest. Hearing that little  _ click  _ and knowing what it must have been a picture of was definitely a turn on. Jack was, officially and forever, an attention whore. Oh well. He could have come out of three hundred years of solitude with worse habits. 

He let that epiphany slide over and off of him, focusing instead on the way Pitch claimed his body in the most pleasurable ways. He gave his lover a happy moan for his efforts and pressed his chest closer, more solidly against Pitch, to feel their skin touch, the lukewarm heat Jack sapped from him. It always felt so  _ good…  _

Pitch returned that moan right back, basking in the chill of Jack’s skin against all the  _ heat  _ he was rubbing between them. It was strange how intense it all felt and they weren’t even close to fucking. But he  _ liked  _ being able to turn Jack on so much, watch his stare go hazy until the only thing he could see was Pitch. The Shadowman was just as starved for the Guardian’s attention as Jack was anyone’s attention. Such as the camera’s…

Remembering it again, Pitch slowly let their lips drift apart, followed by their tongues, and he gave his lover an impish look while he brought the phone back around. When he snapped another picture, of his gray hand elegantly wrapped around their sexes, some of that bow that started the trouble in the background, the resulting image was between them for both to see.

Jack whined, because what else could he do when Pitch showed him something as hot as that? Jack would get it framed if he thought the image would blow up well. Keep it in the back of his closet as prime wanking material. Except, Pitch’s hand had to pause to keep it from being blurry and they weren’t even kissing and the picture was irresistible, yes, but so were Pitch’s lips. As Jack leaned forward to steal another kiss, he laid his hand over his lover’s to make it move again and whispered a pleading, “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” Pitch was quick to assure before they became fully occupied in another wet and messy kiss. With Jack’s encouragement, he squeezed the both of them tighter and opted for something a little faster than a massage, groaning into his boyfriend’s mouth as they got going. Fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to keep up with this  _ and  _ the camera, and Pitch knew what he wanted more. The phone ended up slipping from his hand as it came back up to wrap around the Guardian, wanting to feel as much of his skin as possible when he rushed forward and sent them tumbling back into the sheets to fuck into their joined grip with ease. 

Jack’s nails dug into Pitch’s back as they fell, unwilling to let them part even a little bit. Gasps for air happened against Pitch’s lips only, whimpers and moans swallowed up by Pitch’s mouth on his. And there were a  _ lot  _ of those as Jack rocked his hips to the rhythm set by his lover, begging whines never far behind,  _ “Mmm, Pitch, please…” _ This was so fucking hot. Jack had no idea naked tea time was going to go like this, but he suddenly wished he’d tried it sooner.

They both felt so  _ hard  _ now, rigid, overly sensitive skin against overly sensitive skin. Pitch had no idea how long they’d been moving mindlessly together but it felt so good, and Jack’s voice was a damn siren call enchanting him to keep going, up, down, in and out, perfectly synchronized. He never let go of those lips either, his own vocalizations smothered into Jack while they danced. Soon enough he felt wetness on his fingertips, likely from himself, and it added just a touch of extra slickness to their rut that had Pitch moaning, an all consuming  _ hunger  _ in his silvery-gold eyes that were targeted on his hopelessly sexy winter spirit, “ _ Nnnh,  _ oh  _ Jack…  _ Gods, Jack, I want to come. I want to come all over you.  _ Hnn _ … I’m going to come all over you and take a picture of you wearing it. I’ll show you how beautiful you look when you’re  _ mine _ …” 

“Oh, fuck, I want it,” Jack breathed, toes curling, legs kicking, doing anything to move closer, move  _ faster  _ with Pitch. It was so good, so overwhelmingly good, and Jack wanted nothing more than to listen to Pitch say all those wonderful things and come just like his boyfriend wanted him to. Jack worked his fingers into that thick, dark hair, pulling Pitch’s face closer until that wasn’t enough. He pulled at Pitch’s arms, shoulders, hips, because the only thing he could not do was stay still, and he didn’t want to talk over his lover, didn’t want to interrupt that beautiful litany of gorgeous ideas, but he couldn’t be quiet either, “Please, Pitch,  _ please,  _ I want it so bad…”

“I’ll give it to you, Jack,” Pitch promised in a rushed breath, speeding up his fist and his thrusts because he was so fucking  _ close  _ now, “I’ll give you everything…” And how could he not? All of those desperate touches reaching for him,  _ needing  _ him so much… Pitch’s hips were on autopilot, fucking his own hand with the roughness he’d been holding himself back from earlier and taking Jack with him for the ride. He could only maintain another kiss for seconds at best before he was panting, moaning,  _ chanting _ , “Jack _ JackJack _ ..!” and then seizing up, head bowed, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut and coming so hard that his release was splattered across the frostling’s chest. 

It felt so good, all that come covering his body. Pitch  _ looked  _ so good, lost in his pleasure like that. It was irresistible and suddenly Jack was coming in Pitch’s hand, hasty, rapid thrusts he had no control over and a deep, desperate whine on his lips. Jack shook as his back arched, waves of pleasure running up and down his spine and he wouldn’t be surprised if his nails were drawing blood, but somehow he figured Pitch wasn’t going to mind. Not when he was lost in his own sea of  _ good,  _ and oh, Jack  _ loved  _ knowing he was the cause.

Jack gasped when the pleasure released him, when the waves receded and left him in control but overwhelmed. His legs, usually so steady, were trembling as he pulled them up, curling them around Pitch’s lower back as if that could give him the stability he was missing. Jack felt… unnaturally  _ cold  _ without that searing pleasure, without the heat of arousal burning him from the inside, and he looked to Pitch with clear, slightly watery eyes to warm him again.

Pitch wanted nothing more than to fall into Jack’s waiting arms, to just lay there and bask in all the wonderful sensations coursing through him but he had one last mission to accomplish first. Blindly, he groped across the bedding to find that phone, fingers barely stable enough to  _ hold  _ it, and while he was getting his breathing under control, he slowly navigated his way back to the camera. ...This was going to take two hands. 

“So beautiful, Jack,” the Nightmare King cooed out sweetly, steadying the camera as best he could, “It looks exquisite on you…” He snapped two pictures that he was sure would make him hard in an  _ instant  _ were he to ever see them again. 

Jack groaned because oh God, that made his nether regions stir again and come on, fuck, his skin hadn’t even stopped tingling yet. A thought that inevitably made him laugh and he pulled Pitch down to help him deal with himself, “You definitely need your own phone. You’re having way too much fun with mine.”

“You  _ handed  _ it to me to play with,” Pitch pointed out, letting Jack pull him down onto his dirtied chest where they could cuddle properly and where he could scatter a few happy kisses up his lover’s neck, “And I know you’re having fun too.” 

_ “Mmm,”  _ Jack hummed, pleased, as he tilted his head to the side for Pitch to reach more of his neck, “Baby, of course I’m having fun. You’re all over me. What’s not fun in that? I still think you should get your own phone.”

“Sounds like a gift idea,” Pitch mumbled into Jack’s skin, licking all the way up to the lobe of his ear. At this point, yes, he would  _ take  _ a phone, but he didn’t want to go through the trouble of acquiring one. ...Even if all that really meant was talking to Lelouch. It didn’t sound like a priority when he could just use Jack’s and spend that time instead tangled up with the Guardian that captured his heart. “Do you want to see what you look like?” Pitch offered in a suggestive whisper, offering the device back to its owner.

Jack bit his lip, hesitantly taking the phone. He wasn’t sure his dick could handle an instant erection right now, and it really felt like that was what would happen when he looked at these pictures. But he couldn’t say no, either. Curiosity alone meant he had to look.

It only took one swipe to bring the last picture back up on screen, and then Jack was moaning again. He looked… a  _ mess.  _ Nothing was left untouched. No part of him left unclaimed by the man lying over him now. Fuck, Jack looked so…    


Jack knew he was happy, but that was the wrong word for this photo. He looked…

_ Pleased.  _

“Oh God, Pitch.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Pitch moaned back at his boyfriend, nuzzling into the crook of his neck like he possibly had a chance of fighting the stirrings of arousal just being in the  _ proximity  _ of that photo and the subject of that photo brought, “I see that every time I make you come and that’s why I can’t seem to settle down around you.”

Jack switched back to the camera and turned his phone on Pitch, taking a quick shot of the Nightmare King nuzzling like an adorable, excitable puppy, then showed the photo to him, “And this is what I see. Can you understand why I can’t stop cuddling you?”

….Well he looked nothing like what the  _ Boogeyman  _ was supposed to look like, Pitch thought, only eyeing the camera with mild interest when it wasn’t on Jack. He couldn’t deny how… happy and unguarded he looked though, “You  _ definitely  _ can’t show that to anyone. That’s more incriminating than the sex photos.” 

Jack laughed and put the phone down so he could wrap both arms around his boyfriend, fingers digging into his dark skin. He wouldn’t show it to anyone, no, but he swore to keep it forever for himself. Pitch only looked like this for  _ him.  _ “I don’t want anyone else to see you this naked either, but what’s wrong with letting them know you’re  _ happy?”  _

As if the photo didn’t answer that on it’s own. And Pitch couldn’t even rightly frown or give Jack a  _ look  _ when he was enveloped in a cold embrace like this, the smile refusing to leave his lips, “Because a happy Boogeyman isn’t a scary Boogeyman.” 

More to be playful than chastising, Jack nipped at the tip of Pitch’s ear, “You can be plenty scary; everyone already knows that. What I can’t convince my friends of, is that you’re plenty docile when you want to be, too.”

Pitch made a small noise and tilted his head like even  _ that  _ amount of sensation would have been too much for him right now, “That’s the  _ last  _ thing certain friends of yours need to know.” 

Jack got the message and switched to gentle petting, beginning with just his fingertips to soothe the nip away, “They won’t trust that you’re good for me until they see it for themselves, and I  _ want  _ them to trust that.”

The Nightmare King sighed, but it wasn’t quite as happy sounding as before. His eternal opposition to the Guardians was the last thing he wanted to think about on this day meant for lovers. “If you want to show that picture to them, fine, but I highly doubt one photograph is going to convince them of anything. I will, however, consider it a worthy endeavor if the sight of my gloriously naked body is enough to give Bunnymund horrific nightmares.” 

Jack burst into giggles at the thought. He could admit, tormenting Bunny with things that cannot be unseen is a rather enjoyable pass-time. All the same, “I didn’t mean this photo specifically, Pumpkin, I meant you being happy in general.”

“What are you proposing we do, Darling? I’ve  _ sang  _ with you around them. What more of a display do they need?” 

“I don’t know,” Jack answered honestly, combing his fingers through Pitch’s hair again and again, watching the way it parted for his nails, and then making it part a different way, “I’ll think of something, but it won’t help if you’re trying  _ not  _ to show that side of you to them.”

Pitch officially had his eyes closed, tension easing out of him with Jack’s petting and he idly tried to return some of that pleasant feeling rubbing his thumbs over the winterling’s sides, “When I’m in the company of both you and them, the only side I’m trying to  _ hide  _ is my vengeful one from  _ you.  _ What you think matters so much more to me than what they think.” 

“I love you,” Jack reminded him softly, “It isn’t my mind that will change.”

“And I love you. Do you  _ want  _ me to hold onto you and kiss you at every opportunity around them? More often than not, that’s what I’m holding myself back from.” 

The Guardian smiled and played with a lock of hair that was sticking out oddly from the rest, “Go ahead, Sugar. Maybe it’ll be too much, but we’ll play it by ear. I’d rather too many kisses than too few.”

“I’ll remember that,” Pitch warned with a growing smirk that was soon covered up when he placed a few kisses along the line of Jack’s jaw, “I’ll remember and abuse the  _ Hell  _ out of that.”

Jack hummed and traced his fingers along Pitch’s hairline, behind his ear, “I wonder how their minds would change to see me fighting off not your aggression, but your affection.”

Pitch  _ would  _ have hit Jack with a frown, but the forever-teen had to go and find a  _ good _ spot that had the shade shifting his head for more of those wandering fingers, “Why would you fight my  _ affection _ ? You already shoved me away in front of the Sandman and the rabbit…” 

“Like tickles,” Jack said, placing a kiss on Pitch’s brow and retracing the path his fingers had just taken, “Too much of a good thing, that you fight off with a smile. You know what I mean, Pumpkin.”

“Hn,” Pitch felt the shiver all the way down his back and attempted to press himself even tighter to his boyfriend, “I know that I don’t like how it feels to be rejected.” 

“It’s never rejection, Baby,” Jack promised with another kiss, “Call it  _ handling  _ if you have to call it something. But never rejection.”

“ _ Handling,  _ hm?” Pitch repeated with an amused tone, “Sounds like something that’s better tended to behind closed doors.”

“It usually is,” Jack agreed, “but my friends can put up with some public displays of affection if I put up with Bunny’s bad attitude and Tooth shoving her hands in my mouth, know what I mean?”

“Mm. If she gets to shove her hands in your mouth, I get to shove my hands in your pockets.” 

“Exactly. It’s more than fair. Also the hands in my mouth thing kind of weirds me out.”

“Hopefully me molesting you in front of her weirds her out then, and she’ll stop. But I won’t.” 

“Gonna be honest,” Jack chuckled, shaking his head even as his hands kept petting, “That would be really funny for me.”

“Then I’ll do it. You know I will…” Pitch trailed off with a yawn. Jack’s petting felt  _ really  _ nice, and he’d woken up  _ really  _ early. He didn’t want to doze off, but he absolutely did  _ not  _ want to move either. No matter how sticky it was between them. “Does that mean you’re inviting them over?...” 

“Or taking you to them,” Jack offered with a delicate shrug. Pitch looked so comfortable and Jack didn’t want to jar him. “But not today, Babe. They have no part in today.”

“Not today,” Pitch’s voice sounded slightly slurred and he was losing track of the conversation, but he attempted to stay relevant anyway, “Just you today. Just you always.” 

“Only you, Baby,” Jack echoed, fingertips delicately tracing Pitch’s jaw, “I’m only yours.”

Pitch obediently tilted his head up for Jack’s convenience but only consciously reaped the benefits of it for not even a minute. He knew he liked what he felt, and what he heard made him so content and complete that he drifted off with no regrets with one last whispered, “ _ Mine… _ ” 

Jack was, frankly,  _ charmed.  _ Pitch was delightfully possessive, and Jack held onto him until his shoulder started to feel sore. Pitch just  _ wanted  _ him, and Jack was still so pleased to know that. It warmed his frozen heart. It made those three hundred years of solitude feel worth it. 

It renewed Jack’s resolve to make Pitch a perfect cup of tea.

His turn. Pitch did breakfast; Jack was doing lunch. It took some effort to get out from under Pitch without waking him, but took no thought at all to silently get dressed and drift into the kitchen where he got to work.

First things first, Jack gathered every single oven mitt, hot pad, trivet, and towel the kitchen had. He was not going to fuck up the tea because of a lack of insulation. He made sure to keep his hoodie sleeves down too, and almost convinced himself to go grab another jacket when he decided that would take too long and turned on the stove instead. Enough delay; it was time to cook for Pitch.

Jack actually  _ was  _ a good cook; he just found himself miserable if he tried to babysit a pan. The heat was awful and God forbid anything splatter and burn his skin. Which made him terrible at making candy, but left a wide range of crockpot, oven baked, slow-simmered meals that he could do with relative ease.

Jack always  _ could  _ boil the water for Pitch’s tea; he just hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to.

But now he was armed with insulation.

Three failed cups, one ruined chicken breast, an entire canister of salt on the floor, and several waterlogged tea bags later, Jack finally had lunch on a tray with a cup of tea he thought he could be proud of. Pitch would have the final say in that, of course, but Jack liked to be optimistic most days.

“Pumpkin,” Jack cooed softly as he approached the bed. He never got to be the one to do this. It was… kind of really exciting. The Guardian of Fun perched on the open edge of the globe and reached in to gently shake Pitch’s shoulder, “Time for lunch, Baby. Time to wake up.”

Pitch was stirring immediately, but it was to roll over onto his side as he used to when Jack visited him, expecting that he had something wonderfully cool to cuddle close to his chest. When there was no temperature change, the Nightmare King’s eyes flew open and he was sitting upright to seek out the reason he felt so disappointingly lukewarm. But there was Jack on his other side, and Pitch blinked, several times, rubbing at his eyes with a curled finger wondering if he was dreaming, “Jack…?” This was… all kinds of backwards. There was even a tray of hot food, perhaps the biggest surprise of all from a winter spirit. “Did…. How long was I-- Is that tea?”

Jack was beside himself. Pitch was being  _ so fucking cute,  _ and  _ no wonder  _ his boyfriend liked to wake him up every day, if this was what waking someone up looked like. He was even rubbing his eyes, and Jack almost made an embarrassing sound at how adorable that was, but covered it up by pushing the tray toward him, “And soup. Tell me what you think?”

This required more blinking. Pitch accepted the tray into his lap and studied its contents disbelievingly. It was… very clean and simple and not what he would have expected of Jack. Really, all he’d seen the Guardian make were things on a stick over a fire and ice cream, along with various attempts at his tea. “Jack…” he said again, in awe. This was another first for the Boogeyman, and it was so touching that this young spirit cared for him enough to do it. That alone was going to ensure he loved it, but the tea had him most curious. He picked up the mug and took a slow sip, analyzing both temperature and taste… 

“Oh Jack,” he spoke finally with adoration shining through both tone and gaze, “It’s perfect.”

There was no stopping Jack’s smile. It was a little ridiculous; it wasn’t like Pitch hadn’t shown him exactly how to make his tea, but this was the first time Jack had done it without supervision and there was the lunch in bed aspect and it was just…  _ perfect. _

“I’m glad,” the frostling said as he rolled into the nest on his back, “I was a little worried you-”

Jack lifted his head, suddenly alert, and narrowed his eyes at the tray, “Hey, wait, you haven’t even  _ tried  _ the soup.”

“One thing at a time, my Prince. A  _ good  _ cup of tea is meant to be savored.” But Pitch was setting down the mug and reaching for the spoon anyway, though not before he snuck in a kiss atop that white mess of hair and murmured into it, “I’m already impressed, you know.”

“Get ready to be more impressed,” Jack replied with a cocky little grin. He was worried, but he was still Jack Frost.

Which meant Pitch could only indulge him. Sitting up and perhaps a bit excited to eat something where the first ingredient  _ wasn’t  _ sugar, the shade helped himself to a taste. ...Or three. Simple as it might have looked, there was actually quite a bit of flavor and it was deceptively  _ good.  _ What ever gave him the impression that Jack was hopeless in the kitchen?

“Hmm…” That didn’t mean Pitch couldn’t have his own fun playing food critic, “I do think…,” Pitch paused like he was trying to compose his feedback, even while he was licking the back of the spoon when he did it, “that if we were to follow in human tradition, I would ask you to marry me at this point.”

Jack hated himself for waiting on that pause with bated breath; fuck Pitch and his melodramatics.

He was so tense that the sudden release made him reckless and he reached out before he thought about it to smack Pitch in the shoulder. “You ass!” he laughed, melting back into the sheets. That was kind of a big statement to make, but was it really any bigger than the rest of the things they had promised each other? Jack was already sworn in for a forever deal. A pretty ring and some cake would only sweeten it. “I’d say yes.”

There were  _ lots  _ of reasons why Pitch was smiling at that reaction, and he was quite torn between going in for more soup or leaning down and kissing Jack silly. ...Knowing them, he’d probably never taste the soup again while it was warm if he went in for the kiss, so he opted to go back to the bowl. Kissing was going to happen either way. “You would make me the happiest Nightmare King. But I think Seifer would hate us a little bit if we got married before he did.”

“Don’t pretend like you aren’t already the happiest Nightmare King,” Jack glared with good humor, pinching the inside of Pitch’s knee like the brat he was. Which really only made him very aware of the fact that Pitch hadn’t gotten redressed like Jack had. Of course he hadn’t; he was unconscious. Oh God, and he still had that bow. Jack bit his lip and tried to focus on something unsexy. Like Seifer. “He wouldn’t. He’s too much of a sucker for romance. He’d be happy for us.”

“That’s true,” Pitch let his leg twitch away from Jack’s fingers since they weren’t being very pleasant right now, though it didn’t affect the grin on his lips. In fact, he countered the juvenile attack by taking that hand in his, “While this is quite delicious and I am very eager to see what else you can make, I would not ask for your hand this way. When I  _ do  _ propose,” the shade’s dramatic pause was filled this time with a soft kiss brushed over the back of Jack’s fingers, “it will be a night you’ll never forget.”

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes, but he turned Pitch’s hand over and returned the sweet kiss still, “As if I’m ever going to forget this.”

“Well, if you’d rather  _ not  _ experience a more meaningful proposal,” Pitch shrugged, but rubbed his thumb fondly over Jack’s fingers, “Are you going to have some of this with me?”

Jack pulled the hand closer so he could nibble and suck lightly on the edge of that thumb, “You know I’m up for whatever, Sugar. I was gonna get myself a bowl when it cools down. I don’t like it that hot, but I know you do.”

Pitch should have realized that, but he was a bit distracted watching and  _ feeling  _ the lips and teeth on his thumb. Even fully clothed in his usual attire, Jack was so very appealing to him; it took all the willpower he had to look away and resume feeding himself. He  _ would  _ be claiming that mouth as soon as he was done. “You’re being terribly sweet today, and I went and fell asleep on you. I hope you can forgive me.”

Jack’s smile was bright as light reflecting off snow, “It gave me the chance to surprise you with tea. I’m glad you took a little nap, Baby.”

Pitch hummed a satisfied note just as he was taking another sip of said tea and gave Jack’s hand a gentle squeeze. He felt overly pampered, and the nagging urge to turn it back on his lover was still there, but he was also loving every second, “I only regret missing the removal of your bow. I’d been hoping to take it off with my teeth.”

“I can put it back on,” Jack said quickly, maybe a little too eager, “I mean, not right now. Eat your lunch. But later, absolutely.”

That excited answer made Pitch smirk and want to kiss Jack even more. Did Jack deal with this same struggle when he surprised him with food in bed? “We do have eight more rounds to get through before the day is over…”

“And one can definitely involve your mouth near my cock,” Jack nodded enthusiastically. He wasn’t really sure his body could take that much punishment, but he was willing to find out. “Did you have any other exciting ideas?”

“Hmm…” Pitch could probably conjure up eight interesting sex ideas on the spot if he needed to, but half the fun with Jack was what happened when they  _ didn’t  _ plan. The phone had certainly worked  _ a lot  _ better than he’d anticipated. Which reminded him that they needed to review all of those pictures at some point. ...At some point when they were ready for another round. “Just one, if you were still interested in venturing out. Otherwise I am completely open to suggestion.”

“Out?” Jack asked, curiosity dripping from his tone. Pitch  _ had  _ mentioned a plan, before. Rolling onto his stomach, Jack propped his head up like it was story time, “What did you have in mind?”

Pitch only turned and gave Jack a wink. As if he was going to spoil anything right  _ here.  _ “You’ll see when you tell me you’re ready, Darling.”

Jack groaned and face-planted in the cushions,  _ “Tease.” _

“Like you don’t enjoy the surprise,” Pitch chuckled, working his fingers between his boyfriend’s, “Why? Are you wanting more?”

Jack snickered, tilting his head to grin up at his lover, “I want everything. You know that, Babe.”

“And I’ll give you everything I can.” Which sadly left no attention for the soup, but Pitch had his priorities. “What can I give you right now, Snow Angel?”

Jack still wasn’t used to such open offers, but he knew Pitch was good for it now. There was so much they could do, but Pitch wasn’t done with his lunch yet, Jack hadn’t had any, and the heat between them… was more of a smoldering warmth at the moment. So he crawled a little closer, laid his head against Pitch’s side, and said, “Pet me.”

Such a simple request made the Nightmare King smile. He untangled their fingers so his could re-tangle within messy white locks, massaging the Guardian’s scalp while he sipped at his soup, “Anything else?”

Not really, but since Pitch was offering so freely, “Tell me how much you love me?”

“I love you more than I ever thought capable of this jaded, black heart of mine,” Pitch didn’t miss a beat, armed and ready with an arsenal of different proclamations of his still new but undying love. “I don’t know if I ever had a mortal life like you, or if I’ve always been like this, but having you with me… I feel as though I’ve been given a second chance.”

“You have,” Jack said easily, fingers drawing patterns across Pitch's lean stomach, “Although I would argue it was Kamui who gave it to you.” Jack's love was strong, but it wasn't defeat-the-Nightmares strong. It had a more save-Pitch-from-himself flavor. And even if he got to choose, Jack wouldn't change a thing.

“If you want to think of it in the very literal sense,” Pitch shivered under that touch and decided to mimic those idle patterns at the back of Jack’s neck, “Kamui got me back on my feet to continue on the same path.  _ You  _ set me on a different one entirely. If not for you, I would still be waking up everyday fueled by revenge and hatred. But now I wake up inspired by my love for you, Jack.”

Jack’s hands crept around Pitch’s waist and just sort of…  _ clung  _ there for a while. He should have known he’d feel this much. He had  _ asked  _ for Pitch to say how much he loved him, and he knew that was a lot. It was his own fault that he assumed it would be fluffy words and sweet nothings. Of course Pitch would go for life-changing narratives and  _ inspiration. _

Not to mention how concerned and upset the thought of Pitch waking up angry every single day made him. To think Pitch spent centuries like that. To think he hasn’t been  _ happy  _ until now… Jack nuzzled snugly into Pitch’s side, “I love you, too.”

It felt nice having those arms wrapped tighter around him, Jack’s hair almost tickling him where it was brushing over his skin, but the weight of those returned words felt even better. There was maybe a couple spoonfuls left in his bowl, but Pitch didn’t want to wait any longer, so he set the silverware down and looped his arms around the Guardian clinging to his side. “Was that too much? Was I supposed to recite poetry instead?”

“It wasn’t too much,” Jack shook his head, rubbing his cheek against his boyfriend. He wondered that he was coming across as upset rather than touched, but Jack didn’t think there was anything he could do about it. Controlling himself wasn’t a skill of his, but being an advantageous little shit was, “It was beautiful. Feel free to keep going.”

“I could go on and on about you, Jack Frost,” Pitch sighed like there was nothing he could do against such an absolute truth, “But I’d much rather be kissing you right now.”

“Do both,” Jack chirped, sitting up to make himself easier to reach and looking at Pitch with an adoring,  _ eager  _ glint in his eyes, “Tell me how much you love me between kisses, Pitch.”

Pitch barely let Jack get his request out before he stole that demanding mouth in a deep, much needed kiss. Trying to put all that emotion into words felt like it would  _ cheapen  _ it, so he had to make up for it with physical action. One of his hands came up to cup the side of his lover’s face when he pushed past those lips with his tongue. He went in for a quick plunder, and then pulled away to speak.

...Except, when he took in just how beautiful Jack looked with his kiss-darkened lips, the words promptly died on his tongue. For a moment he was at a loss, which was unusual because Pitch  _ always  _ had something to say, but what was the  _ perfect  _ thing to say?

What sort of thing did Jack like to hear  _ most _ ?

It took him a moment, but eventually Pitch smiled at himself for his own foolishness, for overthinking things, and only thought about it for a second longer before he  _ sang _ his affection instead, " _ I never cared much for moonlit skies, I never wink back at fireflies, But now that the stars are in your eyes, I'm beginning to see the light… _ " An oldie, but a goodie. Pitch trailed off for another soft, lingering kiss before Jack could tease him too much.

Though the threat of such didn't stop him either, " _ I never went in for afterglow, Or candlelight on the mistletoe, But now that you've got the lamp down low, I'm beginning to see the light… _ "

Pitch paused for another liplock, " _ Used to ramble through the park _ ," and another, " _ Shadowboxing in the dark _ ," and again, " _ Then you came and caused a spark, That's a four alarm fire now… _ " Winking, the Nightmare King pulled back just enough so he could trace the outline of Jack's lips with his tongue, stroking his thumb over a high cheekbone, and dropped his voice low and smooth for the final verse, " _ I never made love by lantern shine, I never saw rainbows in my wine, But now that your lips are burning mine, I'm beginning to see the light, I'm beginning to see the light… _ "

Jack was a desperate, whimpering mess every time Pitch freed his mouth for sound. How did Pitch take everything he asked for and make it so much better than Jack could have ever imagined? Pitch was  _ singing  _ between  _ kisses  _ about how  _ much  _ he loved him and Jack felt suddenly inadequate. There was nothing he could give to Pitch that would be greater or even  _ match  _ the things Pitch did for him.

“I seriously love you so much,” Jack declared, holding so tight to Pitch as he spoke from the heart. It was his only hope, because his plans were never as flawless as his boyfriend’s and the only thing that could possibly be sweeter was pure, spontaneous affection. “So much, and I would be miserable without you. I  _ need  _ you. Forever. I’m never leaving you, not  _ ever.” _

It didn’t need to be perfectly planned or have a showy performance to it to hit Pitch straight through the chest. He felt a little short of breath by the end of that confession, as if it were  _ him  _ that had just been proposed to and his eyes may have even felt a little wet over it, embarrassingly enough. He closed them when he kissed his boyfriend once more, for as long as he could until the need for air became too much and then he could only manage a whisper, heavy with hidden meaning despite only being four words, “I need you too.”

Jack, usually so prone to rambling, found himself with nothing left to say. Pitch’s words were so final. They loved each other. They never wanted to part. And that was everything.

So Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch’s shoulders, pushed his fingers into Pitch’s hair, and cradled him close without speaking for several minutes. When he finally did, he kissed Pitch’s cheeks, pulled away, and visibly pulled himself together, “So, um, are you done with your tea, or…?”

The reprieve was much needed for the Nightmare King as well, and he still wasn’t quite ready to let Jack go with his long arms locked around the Guardian’s waist. He did look over at the tea that was made just for him though, and felt a little guilty that it was barely half gone. “No I’m not done. I still want it, but I want you too.”

“I’ll, um…” Jack shrugged, leaning against Pitch’s shoulder. He could understand that. He felt it all the time. “Can I just go get a bowl of soup for me and come right back? I made a whole pot of your tea; so I can bring a refill for you, too.”

Pitch let out a little laugh and dropped his arms like they didn’t have the strength to hold onto anything. It was rather unlike his lover to ask for permission instead of simply going for it. “You don’t need to ask, Darling, of course you can.”

Jack rolled up onto his knees and pecked Pitch on the cheek again before floating out of the globe, “Just making sure you’re okay, Pumpkin. I try pretty hard not to be an asshole, you know.” And then he shot off to the kitchen for his own lunch.

Pitch could think of  _ several  _ instances when that was not quite true, but it didn’t matter. He missed Jack’s presence already and he sipped at his cooling tea while he waited for his return.

They made it maybe another twenty minutes. It didn’t take long for the novelty of food to wear off and for touches to grow a little bolder, kisses to linger, and they were back at it all over again. 

_ 3… _

“How do you want me to give it to you, my dear?” Pitch asked lowly, rolling over his lover after Jack himself downed the rest of his tea in an effort to make it disappear as quickly as his clothes had.

“Fingers,” came the ready, increasingly urgent response, all four limbs wrapping around the looming Boogeyman, “You can fuck me after, but I want your fingers to bring me off.”

“Whatever you want, love.” Pitch was beyond ready to accommodate such a delectable request. 

Jack got his wish, but none of the recovery time that he might have had on any other day. 

_ 4… _

“God, Pitch, just  _ fuck  _ me already…” But he obviously wasn’t bothered. Jack sounded happily breathless and  _ oh _ so tempting splayed out like he was. 

“Slow, right?” Pitch at least had to check first considering what he’d just done to him with his hands.

A grin, and a nod. “Go easy on me, Babe.”

“You … have my permission to hit me with a snowball if it’s too much.” 

The look on Jack’s face was  _ clearly  _ interested, but he never took Pitch up on it. They’d lost themselves in each other just as effectively as the first of the day. 

Jack hiccuped on a sudden laugh when he eventually crashed back down to Earth, biting his lip to stifle the giggles. He had terrible timing.

Pitch still wasn’t quite ready to face reality yet after a climax like that. He barely had the motivation to open his eyes. Although, the noise out of Jack couldn’t be ignored either. His voice was rumbly when he asked, idly running the tips of his fingers up one of those clingy legs ensnared around him so comfortably, “Do I dare ask… what’s so funny?” 

Jack snorted another giggle, then gave in. Pitch asked; he deserved it. With the tone of a man who knew he was telling a bad joke, Jack admitted, “My ass… is  _ toast.”  _ And then he couldn’t hold back, letting himself laugh as hard as he wanted to at the return of the  _ Dark Butterknife _ .

Oh Hell.

Forever eighteen, Pitch reminded himself through his own chuckles. 

Inevitably, they landed in the shower. The idea of getting clean was a joke in light of their goal, but having a clean slate to dirty up again was always fun. Also, Pitch had offered to give a nice, long massage at some point and that sounded awesome to Jack, but first...

“Do you think my hair needs washing?” Jack asked, running his fingers through it curiously, “I don't want to dry it out.”

“Hmm,” Pitch pretended to consider this, nuzzling all along Jack’s hairline, “I don’t think we were so wild as to get come in your hair, so… Better luck next time.”

_ 5… _

“You’ll just have to come on my face, then. That would do it.” Jack’s  _ tone  _ sounded so casual, but the look, the  _ smirk,  _ he was giving the Boogeyman- 

_ Oh.  _ Oh Gods. He was serious.  _ Very  _ serious. 

“I’m trying to take it easy on you, Jackie Boy. It’s mean to try and rile me up  _ now. _ ” 

Jack bit his lip to stifle his smile, but otherwise toned himself down  _ not at all,  _ “You coming on my face doesn’t have anything to do with my ass, Babe. That can definitely be round five.”

“I…. thought you wanted a massage,” Pitch argued weakly. 

“You can do that  _ after  _ you come on my face. It can be my half of round five.”

“You can barely move without wincing!”

That was cute. Did nothing to prevent Jack from slowly lowering to his knees, leaning in with greedy hands and an eager mouth. “Stop worrying and let me suck you.”

Worry only lasted for the seconds remaining where there was space between cold lips and re-awakened cock. The rest for Pitch was mostly a happy, tingly blur. 

That is until he came, shivering hard through the release, and got to see how pretty Jack looked adorned with a different kind of ribbon.

“Fuck, it’s all  _ over  _ you,” the Shadowman moaned, “How the Hell am I supposed to calm down around you…”

“You’re not,” Jack laughed as he stood up to give Pitch a chance to look closer. He made sure his body was thoroughly claimed and it was kind of adorable that Pitch was surprised. He’d watched it happen, after all. “You’re just supposed to leave my ass out of it for a little while.”

Pitch may have watched it happen, at least while he struggled to keep his eyes open, but that didn’t mean his brain was equipped to deal with so much sex appeal at once. He nipped at Jack’s ear, licked under his chin, and gradually started leading the younger man towards the opposite wall like he couldn’t help himself, hands groping along his sides as he rambled, “All I want to do is kiss you and touch you and lick you and make you scream my name...”

Jack stood his ground, pressing his flat hands against Pitch’s chest to stop him in his tracks. The affection was nice and all, but there was a second half to round five and Jack  _ wanted  _ it. “Massage first. I wanna melt, just like you promised. Make me warm, Pitch…”

Pitch didn’t need the sweet begging to follow through on his word, leaving no part of that winter-bred body unloved by his slow, careful hands. Jack was more or less slush when Pitch carried him back to bed. 

There  _ was  _ a brief interlude of cuddling. Innocent touches, sweet nothings, and enough of a pause for their hair to dry. But with Jack, there always came the playful teasing, and Pitch with his seductive countermeasures, and they were still naked which could not be ignored. The Boogeyman eventually rolled them over where the press of his half-hard cock on Jack’s hip couldn’t be mistaken.

_ 6… _

Jack felt it, and welcomed the weight on top of him. His arms circled Pitch’s shoulders as they went down. “I’m just… My ass is still pretty toasty, is all,” he confessed, unprompted.

Pitch only smiled, cupping the side of Jack’s lovely face, “We have other options. Do you think it would be too much to lick you out?” 

Jack was struck by the casually posed idea this time. He could feel the heat trying to build back up in him just thinking about his lover’s tongue, “I am certainly willing to let you try.”

The Nightmare King looked entirely too intrigued. “I’m going to make you feel  _ so _ good, my Prince.” 

Such a promise, in that voice, with _ those _ eyes on him, and Jack was squirming, “I know. I know, Pitch.”

In fact, it was not too much, as it turned out. 

Jack  _ loved  _ his slow and lazy orgasm following his slow and lazy massage. It was while he was collapsed face first in the pillows, then, that he recognized it was his turn to do something for Pitch. 

“Babe, you ever fucked thighs, before?”

Pitch… He almost didn’t know what to do with himself staring at the positively sinful temptation in front of him. Fuck, was Jack serious? “Please tell me you’re offering.”

“Of course I'm offering,” Jack laughed, pulling his knees together and lifting his ass into position.  “Fuck me, Sugar.”

“ _ Gods,  _ just when I think there is no way you could possibly turn me on any  _ more _ ....”

Pitch had all but pounced on the opportunity. He smeared Jack’s thighs with come and mindlessly rutted into the channel that had been made specifically for _him_. It certainly didn’t take him long to claim it. 

Jack enjoyed every last second despite being utterly spent. “You still alive back there?” he asked when they crashed into a sated, tangled heap.

“ _ Mmm _ Jack… I’m not sure if I’ve actually  _ been _ alive until now.”

The Guardian laughed. That was a little too deep for post-sex conversation. “Slow down, Baby. Your dick’s not even soft, yet.”

“I know. And you already need another damn shower. You’re covered in  _ both  _ of us and  _ I love you _ .”

Jack rolled his eyes, and then himself, but there was a smile on his lips, “You really are horny all the fucking time, aren’t you?”

“I swear I’m trying  _ not  _ to be right now,” Pitch said earnestly, picking himself up to look down into Jack’s eyes, “You turn me on with both body and mind. I don’t usually have my ideal temptation attached to my side at all hours of the day and night.”

“I know all that,” Jack indulged, pushing strands of loose hair back behind Pitch’s ears, “I expect you to be excited. What I don’t understand is how it  _ never  _ cools off, even two minutes after you come. It  _ has  _ to be exhausting.”

“Mm. A bit,” Pitch admitted to that much, eyelids falling to half mast as he fell into Jack’s gentle touch, “But I’ve developed quite a bit of stamina over the years so you needn’t worry.”

“Your attraction to me is something I definitely don’t worry about,” Jack soothed, sliding his fingers higher and running them back through Pitch’s hair, “I just… I hope  _ you  _ don’t mind that I… am not the same?”

Pitch made a face like he was  _ trying  _ to frown, but couldn’t actually hold onto it when Jack was petting him like that, “Of course you aren’t the same, Jack. You’re not  _ me. _ ”

“Oh my God,” Jack sighed, and he sounded relieved as he pulled Pitch in for another kiss, “This is why I love you.”

The ‘oh my God’ triggered the same pride in Pitch it usually did, though he couldn’t claim he understood what he did to deserve it. But he’d take any excuse to kiss Jack Frost, and chased him back down for just that. “I love you too. So keep loving me your way, and I’ll keep loving you mine.”

That sounded like an amazing deal to Jack, and he took it in a heartbeat, “I don’t know how you’re this perfect, but you absolutely are.”

Golden eyes seemed to shimmer with all the fondness in his heart and Pitch smiled, clearly touched by the sentiment, “I’m far from perfect, but I’m going to do everything I can to not change your mind.”

Jack laughed, because they’d talked about this before, “I know, and that’s  _ perfect.” _

The second attempt at bathing  _ really,  _ truly was initiated for the sake of getting clean. Pitch still had his little surprise to unveil after all and it wouldn’t do if they went out all sticky. But, well...

_ 7… _

“Would you like some head?” Pitch asked sweetly from where he was kneeling on the floor of the tub, soaping up Jack’s calves. 

It should have came as no surprise. Jack’s thoughts amounted to  _ ‘Fucking score!’  _ with no heed paid to their overindulgence or exhaustion. 

He happily thread his fingers through slick black strands, “Yes, please!” 

“You guide me,” Pitch offered with a lick, “Fuck my mouth the way you want it.”

Jack… was already starting to pant. He wasn’t sure what way he wanted it, but  _ Oh God,  _ did he want it. 

And though he couldn’t stand on his own two feet when it was all over, he still managed a damn good handjob for his boyfriend, kissing him the whole way through until Pitch broke away to breathe _.  _

Maybe now they could get clean. After the high wore off and their heartbeats evened out, Pitch remembered he was still holding onto the soap. 

“Would you like to get dressed while I finish up here? I won’t be long.” 

With a distinctly wet sound, Jack pulled himself away from Pitch's skin and considered his options carefully, almost hazily, “If I wash you, you're gonna get hard again, aren't you?...”

Pitch gave Jack a naughty smirk, tracing the curve of his ear with a finger, “I could get hard just looking at you long enough.” 

Jack made a sound caught halfway between a snort and a chuckle and batted that finger away, “I know, I know! Could and would are whole different ballparks, but I get it.” The Guardian pulled away and graced his lover with one last little kiss, then stepped out of the water, “Carry on.”

“Don’t miss me too much,” Pitch sang as Jack left him, giving his ass a parting squeeze before he got too far away. 

“You can't tell me what to do,” Jack returned, swatting at Pitch as he twirled out of the shower, “I'm gonna miss you exactly as much as I want to!” It was the bratty thing to do.

That made Pitch laugh. “You’d best run along little frostling, or the Boogeyman is going to get you.” 

“What if I want the Boogeyman to get me?” Jack teased as he toweled off.

“Then he’s going to keep you in his lair for the rest of eternity doing unspeakable things to you, and you’ll never know what your Valentine’s Day surprise is,” Pitch countered, rubbing himself down quickly with the soap. As much as he enjoyed Jack’s scent all over him...

Jack snickered, but obediently made for the door. He was sure he'd love all of those unspeakable things, but his curiosity was stronger. “See you on the other side,” he sang as he left, skipping on a breeze back to the globe for his hoodie. His pants were probably nearby… In fact they were, half buried under the blankets and Jack was dressed fast enough that he had time to mourn not being naked anymore before Pitch came out to find him.

Once he was cleaned and out of the shower, Pitch had been sorely tempted to put his bow back on. For once he did the responsible thing and found himself some pants instead. The bow would have been meaningless anyway, because he wasn’t going to be wearing his robe. The shadows materialized over his upper body in what looked more like a short trench coat with a high collar. Something more.. outdoor and winter appropriate, just to play up the surprise since the elements hardly mattered. 

Dressed for his ‘date’, Pitch sank into the shadows and reappeared up through Jack’s, snaking his arms around him from behind. Before a word could be spoken, his gray hands spread out in front of his lover, black sand swirling in each, “I couldn’t decide, so I’m going to let you: would you prefer somewhere public?” In one hand, the sand shaped itself into what looked like a populated cityscape, “Or private?” and in the other, a secluded little section of forest. 

“I thought you already had this planned out,” Jack wheedled, nudging his elbow into Pitch’s side, but considered his options anyway. The sand sculptures were beautiful, glittering in the shifting light of the lair. There was believable life in the cityscape, an illusion of constant motion in the rotation of the grains and a peaceful stillness to the forest and holy shit, Pitch was an artist.

“It’s Valentine’s. Knowing us, we shouldn’t be anywhere that kids might see us today. I pick private.”

“I have  _ both  _ options planned,” Pitch pointed out haughtily. He effectively destroyed his sand sculpture of forest when he grabbed the man’s hand, “but private it is,” which led him to twirl Jack around so they were pressed chest to chest, “Are you ready?” 

Jack was excited and amused and  _ loved  _ being twirled around in their romantic little dance. Soreness be damned, he wanted to  _ go.  _ “Babe, I was born ready.”

Pitch dragged them into the shadows without another moment’s pause. 

They arrived back on the surface world out of the shadow of a snowbank, landing on the edge of a shallow, frozen pond surrounded by snow dusted pines. It was a decent sized pond, large enough to fit several pairs of romantic skaters, but it was only the two of them on the smooth, untouched ice. 

And Pitch was prepared for it, two black figure skates on his feet. 

He still wasn’t sure if this was the best idea, Jack had  _ died  _ on the ice after all, but he loved his element and he loved to dance, and if Jack hung out with Seifer  _ at all,  _ he must have seen hundreds of couples spending their dates on ice rinks, fumbling and laughing and using every excuse possible to stay close to each other. 

If nothing else, it got them out of the lair for a bit, a change of scenery to remind them the rest of the world was out there, and it was beautiful with winter sparkling under the moonlight. 

The Nightmare King’s personal touch came when he snapped his fingers, and seconds later, the gentle sounds of music could be heard seemingly out of  _ nowhere _ , completing the atmosphere he envisioned. It was a nifty little trick of shadow he worked hard to perfect. It was his power, he’d abuse it for the sole purpose of trying to impress a date if he wanted. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jack,” Pitch repeated, tilting his head at the moon hanging high in the night sky, “...Although it might be past midnight by now.” 

“I didn’t check the steampunk clock,” Jack admitted, but he was obviously distracted by literally everything else. The scenery was gorgeous, the temperature perfect, the music swayed his soul and… Jack had no idea what they were doing here, but he loved that they were here, anyway. “It’s beautiful…”

Pitch laughed and took Jack by the hand, gently gliding backwards, “Well I didn’t bring you here just to  _ stare  _ at i-- _ ohfuck,”  _ but not gentle enough. One of his long legs slipped a little too far,  _ untouched ice  _ and all, and suddenly all that smoothness went out the window as Pitch clung to Jack’s hand to keep his balance. “....It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” 

Jack was shocked into staring down at Pitch’s feet instead. It wasn’t every day that the Boogeyman  _ slipped.  _ The gliding was normal, Jack hadn’t thought anything of it, but now he could see, “Skates?” Pitch was wearing honest to God ice skates. He had been ice skat _ ing.  _ He had brought Jack here not to admire the view, but  _ ice skate  _ through it and Jack had no idea he could love someone so much.

With a huge smile, Jack took both of Pitch’s hands and pulled him along on the ice instead, “That’s okay. I do this all the time.”

Pitch looked more sheepish from the comment than he did from his fight with gravity, but he loved the way Jack was smiling and let himself be led while he got used to being on skates, “I know you do. I’d been contemplating for a while how surprised you’d be, but… I figured at the very least, we’d have a little fun.” 

“It’s a huge surprise,” Jack assured, picking up a little speed since they had the room for it. He loved the way it felt to slide across the ice, like friction didn’t even exist. He loved the quick turns and spins, the kind of agility he could only otherwise accomplish in the sky. But right now, he loved that Pitch was with him. That Pitch was willing to slip and land on his ass over a sport he hasn’t tried in forever just so Jack could have  _ a little fun.  _ “...I didn’t really think you’d ever do this with me.”

“Why’s that, Jack?” Pitch was just managing to keep up, but only because of the tight hold he had on his frostling’s hands. It was getting easier now, he  _ could  _ probably let go and be fine, but he had no desire to. “We’ve attempted snowmen, snow angels, and snowball fights with some amount of success. Why would I be opposed to a little winter dancing?” 

“I just didn't really think it'd occur to you,” Jack laughed, fondly remembering all of those other  _ attempts  _ at winter fun, “I mean,  _ I’m  _ who came up with all of those, so…”

Pitch was taking longer strides by then, increasing their speed, letting himself glide close enough to Jack that their chests brushed together, “Yes, it’s been a little while since you’ve dragged me out into the snow demanding I experience some semblance of childhood.” 

Jack coughed, clearing his throat sheepishly even as he kept Pitch close. He looked up into those metal eyes, bright in the moonlight, and confessed, “I was having a little too much fun with  _ adulthood.” _

Pitch chuckled, charmed by Jack’s bashfulness, and leaned in so their foreheads were touching, “Mm. We’ll have to make sure this is a very  _ adult  _ skate date.” 

Jack pulled away, letting go of one of Pitch’s hands so he could skate more freely, tugging his boyfriend along in an arc around the edge of the pond, “Don’t jump me before we’ve even really  _ started.”  _

“I’m in no position to jump you,” Pitch stated, sounding dead serious if it weren’t for the smirk on his lips, “But I can’t be held responsible if I trip and fall on you.”

Jack laughed, but his tone was  _ real  _ when he said, “I will fucking dodge.”

As if karma had it out for him, Pitch found himself stumbling a step or two right when he was thinking of letting go of Jack’s hand, but he  _ still  _ complained, “And leave me to my own pain and misery? Some boyfriend.” 

“Never said I’d  _ leave  _ you,” Jack corrected with a smile, watching Pitch wobble with glee, “I will absolutely stick around to laugh at your bruised ass.”

“Hmph. You  _ would _ .” Pitch got over his wobble enough to attempt a little half twirl so he was skating in front of Jack again, fixing the younger man with a pointed look. 

Jack only gave him a dazzling smile in return, and graciously changed topics, “It doesn’t take much effort for me to skate. It’s just like walking, but with a slide. I… am probably describing this terribly…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Pitch shook his head once, “I can  _ see  _ how natural it is for you.”

Jack said nothing, pushing closer to Pitch as they slid across the ice. It was an easy glide, simple and straightforward, but, “...We’re not really  _ dancing,  _ are we?”

Pitch hummed thoughtfully. Whatever they were doing, he loved Jack’s proximity while they were doing it. “We’re moving together in something of a rhythm while I adjust to being propped up by two thin blades. I don’t think I’ll be able to swing with  _ any  _ sort of grace out here, but I could probably manage something more...ballroom?”

Without a word, Jack slide one hand up Pitch’s chest to his shoulder, and the other traveled down his arm to grip his hand. Whatever his lover could handle, Jack wanted to do it tonight.

The eagerness was charming. With a fond smile, Pitch’s hand travelled to his lover’s waist to assume the proper position and he stepped forward to lead them in an easy waltz, or something like it. He was so going to end up on his ass taking charge like this, Pitch could  _ feel  _ the urge in him to start twirling and match the lively pace of their beloved swing music, but his own handicap aside, he didn’t want to end up tripping Jack either. “Has anyone ballroom danced with you before?” 

Jack readily shook his head. No point to lying, and his attention was better spent trying to keep their movements smooth and Pitch upright on the ice, “No. Just swing with you, but I've pretended a couple times.”

That kind of made Pitch want to gather Jack in his arms and smother him until he forgot the word ‘alone’ existed. But he pulled his focus together and led them into a gentle little spin instead, “Just follow my lead and I’ll do my best not to drag us both down when I trip over my own feet.” 

“Just treat it like…” Jack considered slowly, trying to remember the name of what it was, but, “I forget the name of it, but isn’t there a waltz where you never lift your feet off the ground? Treat it like that.”

With that advice, one spin became several. They weren’t overly speedy or flashy, and Pitch wasn’t extending his steps as much as he would normally, but as long as they were  _ vertical  _ he considered it a small success. “What’s the matter, Jack? Am I going too slow for you?”

Jack shrugged one shoulder with a cheeky smile on his face, “Maybe a little.” He was having too much fun just being on the ice with Pitch, basking in the wonderful feeling of someone loving him so much they would plan this kind of thing just for him, to care that they weren’t going as fast or twirling and jumping as much as he would be on his own. The whole point was that he  _ wasn’t  _ on his own. “But I’m not holding it against you.”

“Oh good,” Pitch chuckled, perhaps  _ spitefully  _ hastening his steps just to meet Jack’s challenge, “We’ll stick to holding  _ you  _ against me, then.”

“Oh my God, that was so smooth but so cheesy, I can’t tell if I’m embarrassed or liked it!” Jack laughed.

Those first three words were all the proof Pitch needed and he was grinning like he won something, “You liked it. Tonight’s the night when the cheesy lines magically work no matter what.” 

“That cannot be true,” Jack accused, holding tighter to Pitch’s arms as they spun across the ice, “I am absolutely positive there must be some point past which the cheese is too cheesy and the romance is dead.  _ Please  _ do not take that as a challenge.”

Pitch had plenty of reason to be impressed with himself staying  _ off  _ his ass for this long, but he was more impressed with Jack’s ability to adapt and follow his lead in something he’d never officially done before. He was so graceful and it just made Pitch more and more attracted to him. “How could you  _ possibly  _ think I could ever kill the romance?” he asked theatrically, leaning forward so it was  _ almost  _ like he was tilting Jack back for a dip when he sang tauntingly, “ _ I click my fingers, ladies swoon, hottest dancer in the room. _ ” 

If only pressing himself up against Pitch wouldn’t completely derail their dance, Jack would have done it in a heartbeat. His boyfriend really was very sexy when he wanted to be. “Easy there, Hot Stuff,” Jack teased with a smirk, moving his arms to loop around Pitch’s neck, “You don’t want us to fall now, do you?”

Pitch in turn crept his arms around Jack’s waist, hands scandalously low on his back, and tempted fate by leaning in closer, “I think that entirely depends on where we land,” to steal Jack’s lips for a soft kiss. 

The Guardian indulged for several seconds before he just  _ had  _ to pull back and say, “You smooth motherfucker. Alright, fine. The romance is alive. What’re you gonna do with it?”

Pitch might have been looking a bit too smug but it was tempered somewhat with his longing for Jack’s lips to return to his. He didn’t answer the question right away, taking his time to admire the man in his arms with his expression full of anticipation disguised as impatience. So adorable. 

The Boogeyman chuckled again, hands sliding up to Jack’s sides, “With any luck…” Pitch stood up to his full height and took Jack with, lifting the practically weightless spirit  _ up _ a good foot above him, “sweep you right off your feet.” And hopefully not notice the way he almost stumbled and covered it up with another little,  _ sloppy, _ spin. 

Jack noticed, but fuck it. He laughed and clung to his lover, pointedly keeping his legs straight and toes flexed in good, if amateur, form. They would have to push the limits if they were going to really dance, and Jack wanted to  _ really  _ dance. 

_ “Butter  _ is jealous of how smooth you are.”

As soon as they came full circle, Pitch set Jack down for their safety and got their hands back into position, picking up their waltz where they left off. No, it wasn’t his most elegant performance, but Jack’s smile told him he was having fun and Pitch wouldn’t have traded it for anything. “Can’t spread butter without the right  _ knife. _ ” 

Jack just  _ dissolved  _ into giggles, skating on instinct alone because his concentration was  _ fucked.  _ “I ca-can’t believe you just made that joke!”

“Oh? Was that out of line?” Pitch wasn’t trying very hard  _ at all  _ to sound apologetic, “I thought we had a theme going today.” 

Jack shook his head, because he couldn’t handle this. How could Pitch say something so ridiculous with a straight face? How was he not laughing right now? Seriously? Dick jokes deserved at least a snicker. “Oh my God… I don’t know what to do with you.”

That was an accomplishment in Pitch’s book. Were he not a creature that thrived in the absence of light, he might have been  _ beaming _ . “The possibilities are as endless as my love for you. But right now, just dance with me.”

“Aaaand back to the cheese,” Jack took a breath of relief, now that a new round of laughter wasn’t stealing it from him, “Have you ever watched ice dancing?”

“Not as much as you have, I’m sure,” Pitch tilted his head at Jack, “Why? Something you’re interested to try?” 

“Gliding, spins,” Jack shrugged. He loved what Pitch was doing, absolutely, especially the lift, but so far they were either ice skating or dancing, and that was almost ridiculous given the circumstances. He wanted to  _ ice dance,  _ but only, “You know, if you can.”

Pitch’s smile turned a bit tight contemplating Jack’s request. He wanted to, he  _ so  _ wanted, to give Jack what he wished for. Whatever it was, Pitch always wanted his answer to be yes, and it was frustrating that, after everything they did today, he was bound by the limits of his abilities. Maybe he should have taken up some private lessons before he brought his boyfriend to this remote place. “I’m… willing to try,” Pitch replied honestly, “But you might have to take the lead.” 

“I don’t know what about me makes you think I don’t want to lead,” Jack said, amusement coloring every word, “I have no problem teaching you how. It might even be easier than this; footwork in ice skates is  _ hard.”  _

...Okay, maybe Pitch just couldn’t keep up with his teenager of a boyfriend. He picked his head up looking confused, their waltz at this point reduced to simple skating, “You assumed the position to be led. I thought this was what you wanted.” 

Jack actually had to bite his lip to keep from laughing in Pitch’s face. That was too cute. His boyfriend was too cute. “I assumed that position because I  _ always  _ assume that position when we dance, because I am shorter and lighter than you, thus better for being twirled and lifted in a dance. It’s not that I like being led; it’s that  _ you  _ like leading.”

Pitch’s frown was definitely in pout territory. That… were they both just idiots? “...If you ever want to lead, just tell me so. I don’t mind following. It’s how I learned everything I know.” 

Oh God, and Pitch  _ looked  _ cute to match. “I don't mind following, either. I like being twirled and lifted. It's just silly to say I might have to lead like that's the end of everything.” Jack let go of one of Pitch's hands and turned his body sideways, tilting his feet even further than that, “You'll want to position yourself like this. It's just skating backwards, but more open than what you were doing before.”

There was something kind of… endearing about Jack teaching him like this. Of course he had attempted to instruct Pitch on the proper way to play with snow, but Pitch had been more interested in flirting at the time. And Jack did teach him a bit about cell phones he supposed, but this was different. This was the two of them working in sync, and the Guardian of Fun was the leader. The shadowman had to stop himself from looking into the sentiment of it all, and mimicked Jack’s position as requested.

“This is perfect, Pitch. Thank you.”

Pitch was glad they eventually found their rhythm, nothing overly complicated, just the easy feeling of what he could only describe as grounded flight. And he was discovering that having Jack in control was quite enjoyable, if only for the look it brought to his lover’s face. Normally, his instinct would be to pull Jack in close, tell him something, as Jack would put it, ‘ _ cheesy’,  _ and go in for a kiss. 

Instead Pitch did a little half spin so it was him that ended up wound in  _ Jack’s  _ arms when he made his cheesy remark, “ _ You’re  _ perfect, Jack. You can teach me anytime.” 

It made the Guardian laugh, even as he held Pitch close and pulled him along, “Really? Then we should give the snowman thing another try tomorrow.”

Pitch groaned, his head dropping to Jack’s shoulder, for walking straight into that one. “I think that depends on the condition you’re in. We still have three rounds to go.” 

“I can lie prone in the snow while you practice snowballs. Honestly, Pitch, I don’t see why this would stop us.”

“Mmn…” Pitch gently nipped at one of those pale ears, “I can think of so many  _ other  _ fun things to do with you lying prone in the snow.” 

“That  _ won’t  _ make my ass situation worse.”

“You handled my tongue in your ass just fine…” 

“So what you’re saying is,” Jack smoothly summarized, “I am not allowed to teach you to build a snowman.”

…. 

Pitch might have groaned again if it wouldn’t have made him sound as whiny as the spirit behind him. “You’re allowed to teach me how to build a snowman. If that’s what you want.”

“Funny how I had to call you out on it before you would say that,” Jack smiled over his shoulder at Pitch.

“We all know you have me wrapped around your little finger,” Pitch grumbled affectionately. 

Jack twisted away so that they were facing each other again, “It isn’t like you don’t enjoy it when I make you play in the snow.”

Pitch met those pretty eyes, and suddenly rushed in toward the Guardian. He wanted the contact back immediately, so Pitch took it when he wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and lifted him right off the ice, his face level with the frostling’s stomach. “I enjoy playing with  _ you. _ ”

“That’s what I meant!” Jack laughed, clinging to Pitch’s neck and shoulders and wrapping his legs around that lean torso for stability. 

Pitch nuzzled aggressively into the soft material of Jack’s hoodie as he spun them around in a couple of easy circles, “But we can play anywhere.” 

“And we  _ usually  _ play in bed,” Jack agreed on a giggle, pushing his fingers into Pitch’s hair as if he could stop him, but… not actually doing anything to stop him, “but I like my playtime in the snow, too!”

“I know. That’s why I brought you here,” Pitch ceased his nuzzling to better lean into Jack’s hand and get another eyeful of his boyfriend’s joyful expression. Sadly, he only managed a couple seconds worth, because the increasing expanse of _white_ behind Jack stole his attention away. He’d lost track of where they were going and how fast they were getting there, and now they were _way_ too close to the edge of the pond. Pitch didn’t have time to scout for the nearest shadow, so he went for a quick one-eighty that turned out to be a little _too_ quick and he lost his balance, tumbling backwards into the snowy mound that was thankfully composed of _only_ snow. 

It was bound to happen eventually.

The hilarious part about Pitch trying to turn into the snow to protect Jack was that Jack’s face was much higher than Pitch’s body and was offered zero protection by the Boogeyman’s valiant heroics.

Which meant that Jack’s introduction to the snow bank was face-first and graceless. 

That was okay though, because hilarious was hilarious and Jack laughed all the same. He had to wiggle his legs to get them out from under his boyfriend and he got only so far as hunching his back to get his face out of the snow. But that was enough for Jack to get one good look at Pitch half-buried in fluffy ice and then Jack collapsed into giggles all over again.

Pitch didn’t resist the groan this time. That… had been pretty pathetic. Undignified. Nothing like him at all. The crash hadn’t  _ hurt _ , but now he had a faceful and  _ hairful  _ of snow and… Jack was laughing at him. He deserved it. At least the Guardian had landed on top, because it would have been  _ more  _ tragic if Jack’s ass ended up in even worse shape because of his blunder. 

With a shake of his head, Pitch got over himself to start checking Jack over, starting at his waist. “...My fault. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” the frostling assured, slowly crawling down Pitch’s body to settle comfortably in the snow, “My face is a little tingly and my back is still sore, but I have definitely taken harder hits than a fall in the snow.”

Pitch followed suit, leaning up into a sitting position, but then he immediately started to squirm feeling snow trickle down his back beneath the shadow and he couldn’t even question  _ how  _ that worked. What could he say? The cold liked to cling to him. All forms of it, apparently. 

Pitch accepted the shivers, patted his hands together to be rid of any excess snow, and reached forward with both to cup Jack’s cheeks like it would soothe the tingling. “Perhaps I’m not as skilled with romance as I thought,” he muttered with a smirk. 

Jack snorted, but leaned indulgently into those hands, “I think you’re more skilled with romance than ice skating, at least.”

“I lasted longer than I would have guessed,” Pitch half-heartedly defended, rubbing one of his thumbs over Jack’s cheekbone, “It’s been a good two-hundred and fifty years since I last attempted.”

Jack hummed and had to ask, “What made you attempt two hundred and fifty years ago?”

“Boredom, mostly,” Pitch shrugged, “I didn’t exactly have anyone to share the ice with, but I remember being taken by how beautiful and clear it was…” Golden eyes fixed on icy blue, “Down in Louisiana in the middle of June.” 

Salt and pepper brows furrowed in confusion as he thought about it, “But that… In the middle of summer, how is that possible?”

The Boogeyman could restrain the chuckle, but not the grin, “Yes, I wonder how that could be…” 

Jack blinked, suddenly cluing in, “Me? I did that?”

The Guardian really was too damn adorable. “It’s the only possible explanation I could come up with.”

“I, um…” Jack coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. Okay, yes, so he had frozen some things at inappropriate times of year just to see if he could here or there, but he hadn’t really thought about other spirits finding out, especially when they ignored him all the time. “And you skated on it?”

“Not for long, but it seemed like a waste  _ not  _ to when it was going to melt so soon. I was intrigued to have discovered it at all. I probably missed seeing you by a matter of minutes.”

Jack… found himself mourning the lost possibilities of that moment, but it was alright, because he was sitting in Pitch’s lap now. So he smiled and traced the edge of Pitch’s collar along his throat, “I… love you. I love you for coming upon a random patch of ice where it shouldn’t be and deciding that the best course of action was to skate on it before it was gone.”

Pitch let his eyes flutter closed for a moment to better indulge in Jack’s touch. It was very much like the touch of snow on his skin but more… raw.  _ Alive.  _ The Shadowman loved it, and he encouraged Jack to scoot a little closer to him where they’d be in better kissing range. “I love you for being such an artistic rebel and showing off your talent in whatever setting you damn well felt like.” 

“I was finding myself,” Jack stated plainly, eyes large and innocent like he wasn’t quoting a musical about murderers, “I was going out every night looking for myself. And on the way I found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary, and Irving.”

Pitch chuckled at the smooth delivery and didn’t hesitate to cut his own laugh short with a quick kiss to the lips, “Mm. I guess you had it coming all along.” 

Jack sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the reality in front of him. “I don’t know why pop culture references from you about internet culture shock me, but quoting broadway musicals feels expected.”

“To be fair, broadway musicals have been around much longer than you little ducklings and your hashtags.” 

“Yeah, but Chicago’s not  _ that  _ old,” Jack shrugged, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket, “I think it’s ‘cause you’re gay. ...Wait,  _ ducklings? _ ”

“Yes, impressionable little ducklings that imprint on the latest trendy thing that comes their way,” and then Pitch was giving Jack a stern  _ look _ , “My sexuality, which isn’t strictly gay mind you, has nothing to do with my appreciation for song, dance, and story.” 

Jack returned the look with a heavy dose of fond amusement, “I know, but that’s the stereotype and it’s better to admit I’m guilty of pre-judging than vehemently deny it but still expect you, who  _ is in a gay relationship, _ to watch musicals.”

The Boogeyman tsked and shook his head like Jack needed a good scolding, “Guilty as charged. How judgey you are, Jack Frost.”

“Oh, I judge  _ so hard,”  _ Jack grinned, dropping his voice to its deepest tones, “The  _ hardest.” _

….Damnit. Pitch shouldn’t have been reacting to that one word in that low, sexy voice. It wasn’t like Jack was whispering filthy things in his ear about how he wanted Pitch’s cock in him right here and now in the snow. All he said was ‘ _ hard’. He  _ wasn’t the three-hundred eighteen year old here. And  _ yet _ … 

Pitch cleared his throat and let his hands drop to his own lap, “Well? Do you want to give it another go, or what?” 

“I think maybe it’s time for a break,” Jack chuckled and picked those hands up, wrapping them around his waist. Whatever was going on in that head, there was no reason for them to stop touching. 

Pitch didn’t mind. ...Well maybe part of him did, but that part could shut the Hell up because he  _ could  _ behave and just enjoy a simple embrace. He could even behave while he placed a kiss or two on his boyfriend’s snow-dampened cheek. “I didn’t think to bring a midnight snack for us. We could go steal some coffee if you want.” 

“Or,” Jack began as he cuddled up to Pitch’s chest, “we could stay right here and enjoy the scenery.” He knew Pitch was happy here, could feel it through his chest, and yet the Boogeyman was pulling away and Jack could not figure out why.

“It is very pretty here,” Pitch commented wistfully, adjusting so Jack was tucked up under his chin, and he could run long fingers through white hair, “I just would  _ hate  _ to see you bored.” 

“I won’t be bored,” Jack chimed, kissing Pitch’s throat since he was there anyway, “You’ll keep me entertained, won’t you?”

“Mm,” Gods, Jack was such a little tease, but he  _ would  _ behave. He  _ would.  _ No matter how good it felt to have cold lips against one of the many marks Jack left him earlier, “To the best of my ability. I like to think we still have plenty of options to explore.”

“Mmm,” Jack hummed as he considered.  _ Plenty  _ of options, huh? The frostling dropped another sweet little kiss on Pitch’s throat before he confessed, “I want you.” 

_ 8... _

….Options like that. Yes,  _ that,  _ while nothing specific yet, sounded only promising. Pitch was too caught up in the possibilities to do more than offer back, “You have me.” Fuck behaving. 

Jack smiled against Pitch’s skin, pressing closer as he murmured, “You have too many clothes on.”

Pitch had the distinct feeling he was about to be in for an intense battle of hot and cold. And fuck if that didn’t sound  _ exciting.  _ He didn’t even have to blink; the shadows covering his upper body and feet disappeared, leaving him half exposed to the elements and craving more body contact. “Is that better?” 

It was. It was  _ so  _ much better, and it was very appealing, how readily Pitch responded to his wishes. Yes, it was sex. Yes, Pitch was getting something out of it. But it felt like being spoiled and Jack loved it.

He pressed his fingers to Pitch’s chest, rubbing them up and over his shoulders, “Much. We’ve had sex seven times today, and I just want to touch you some more…”

As soon as those tantalizing words left the Guardian’s mouth, Pitch interpreted it as all the permission in the world to let himself indulge in his excitement and attraction. He closed his eyes to the shiver that trickled down his back and accepted the inevitable twitch in his loins. 

Gray hands were already creeping up the back of Jack’s hoodie to address  _ his  _ abundance of clothing, “So touch me, Jack,” he demanded, “I never tire of having your hands all over me.” 

“I can tell,” Jack teased, tracing his fingers lightly around Pitch’s muscles from the top down, making sure to hit every single line of his abs. With the gray tone of his skin and the low light of nighttime, touching was really the only way to properly see that beautiful chest, anyway, “Do you have any idea how pretty you are?”

“Mm,  _ Jack,” _ the Nightmare King cooed, touching his forehead to his boyfriend’s. His next breath was taken in a gasp. He couldn’t get enough of this. He  _ adored  _ the way Jack still wanted to explore him even if just about everything had been touched or kissed before. “If this is your way of wooing me, it’s working.” 

Jack laughed, letting his fingers follow the hem of Pitch’s pants from the front to the back and around again, “Baby, we are way past wooing.”

Pitch wanted nothing more than to be out of his pants, but he was busy groping his way up and down Jack’s back, “It’s still working. Enjoy the unintended side effect.” 

A wicked little grin pulled at Jack’s lips and he leaned in until their faces were barely inches apart. He worked his fingers into the waistband, just two, and tugged the way he might if there had been belt loops instead, “Who said it’s unintended?”

Pitch’s eyes were fast drawn to Jack’s lips in that sexy little smirk. The urge to kiss him was almost too much, “What  _ are  _ your intentions for me, Jackie Boy?” 

Jack bit his lip, a mockery of uncertainty, pretending that he had to closely consider his answer. “...I think it might involve sex.”

That answer, while it did make the Nightmare King laugh, broke some of the spell he’d been falling victim to. “That isn’t very specific,” he pointed out, one of his hands sliding down to gently cup Jack’s regretfully clothed ass, “And considering the circumstances, I would think it  _ needs  _ to be.” 

Jack pouted, but his eyes were shining with mischief when he tugged harder at Pitch’s pants. He didn’t quite see where his boyfriend was coming from here. His ass had been off-limits for several rounds now and it hadn’t slowed them down a bit. They only had to find one or _ three _ more things they hadn’t done, yet. “Just how specific do you need me to be?” 

Now that he was there, Pitch didn’t really want to let go, and gently massaged those out-of-commission rounds. He leaned in to kiss away that pout, because what was he thinking asking the Guardian if he had a  _ plan?  _ “I don’t. You’re allowed to surprise me. Should we be getting my pants off?” 

The moment of serious thought was enough to remind Jack just where they were. His fingers moved to tug Pitch’s waistband down, but hesitated, because they were sitting in a snowbank, “You aren’t too cold, are you?”

Pitch appreciated the concern, smiling at this rare feeling of being loved, “I’m fine. I’m much better at handling the snow and ice when I haven’t been soaking in barely above freezing water in a post-orgasmic haze.” 

Jack blushed at the reminder, “Sorry,” but moved on quickly, pulling Pitch’s pants down over his hips and backing off his lap for more room, “There isn’t anything,  _ in specific,  _ that  _ you  _ want to do, is there?”

Pitch was tugging at Jack’s hoodie even as he raised his hips to aid in the clothing disposal process, “I officially used up the last of my ideas for today when I brought you here. Everything else at this point is a bonus.” 

Jack snorted as he tossed the pants aside and the hoodie slipped over his head, “As if the whole damn day isn’t just one giant bonus…”

Having his bare ass settled in the snow did take some getting used to, but Pitch embraced the chill like he embraced all the cool temperatures Jack introduced him to. He was much more focused on getting his fingers involved with the fastenings of his frostling’s pants anyway, “Having someone to spend it with is certainly a bonus.” 

“I don’t agree,” Jack declared, pushing his pants to his knees then sitting back so Pitch could tug them the rest of the way off, “That’s not the bonus; that’s the goal.”

Pitch was thankful Jack hadn’t bothered with those silly straps around his legs, so the pants were yanked away and carelessly tossed aside as if they were within the privacy of the nest. That was the longest both of them had stayed clothed today; Pitch was happy to be done with it. 

His hands were back on Jack’s skin in an instant, pulling them together like it  _ hurt  _ to be away, “It would be the goal if one hadn’t lost the will or hope to consider it a possibility, but I’d rather not argue semantics. Not exactly my idea of foreplay.” 

Jack rolled his eyes, but obediently sat in his lover’s lap, wrapping cold arms around Pitch’s shoulders. It took a little wiggling to get Pitch’s cock where Jack wanted it, but he was soon rocking back and forth gently, coaxing both of them to attention, “ _ Your  _ idea of foreplay is, ‘Hello.’”

Molten eyes fell down to his lap, watching with rapt attention the way Jack moved, grinding against him with such an eager,  _ sensual  _ fluidity. It was almost an unconscious action for Pitch to press his lips against the Guardian’s neck and collarbone. Gray fingers mindlessly traced over each vertebrae he could feel, hips trying to jerk upwards but for the most part allowing his lover to dictate their pace and how much sensation he was allowed to indulge in. 

Yeah, he was not-so-secretly happy Jack voted for the private location. “I was never  _ that  _ desperate. You’re the only one I would interpret a greeting as a seductive invitation, and that’s because you’re such a damn flirt.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I gave you permission and you ran a damn mile with it,” Jack waved off, then pushed that hand into Pitch’s hair. This was hot and all, but Jack needed to figure out where it was going. What hadn’t they done, yet? What was possible in the snow? “Can you… Like, reach the lair from here? Like, if I wanted lube, could you get it?”

...Jack was so cute. Pitch merely smirked while he nipped along Jack’s jawline and the darkness around them stirred. A single shadowy tendril appeared and slithered right into the pocket of his discarded pants, dutifully returning and holding up a little travel size bottle. 

Jack stared at it for several seconds before he snatched it out of the air, “God, you’re such a perv. I should have known.”

“I fail to see how being  _ prepared  _ to spend a day with my boyfriend on  _ Valentine’s Day  _ constitutes as being perverted,” Pitch’s tone was indignant, but the grin was naughty and for the most part hidden against Jack’s skin. 

“Ice skating, Pitch,” Jack reminded as he set the lube within reach, propped up in the snow, “With your boyfriend,  _ ice skating.  _ Were you expecting us to  _ fuck on ice?”  _

Pitch pulled back from Jack’s neck to make a show of his thought process, “If humans can easily fuck on the dance floor, and we both agree ice skating counts as winter dancing, then by the transitive property…” 

Jack hid his face in his hands, “Oh my God, you actually expected us to fuck on ice.”

Pitch tilted his head back in a laugh that sounded appropriately evil. Sometimes teasing Jack was too easy. When he was done with his theatrics, he came back to kiss the back of one of those hands. “I didn’t. You saw how unstable I was, and I knew  _ your  _ stability was questionable. But if you felt like being adventurous, which you  _ are  _ known for, I thought it couldn’t hurt to be prepared. I don’t know why that’s such a problem when here you are  _ asking  _ for it.” 

“Did I call it a problem? I called you a perv.” Jack let his hands fall away from his face, placing them back on Pitch’s chest. He leaned in close so he could explain in slow, careful words, looking up through wind-swept bangs into his boyfriend’s eyes, “It is  _ not  _ a problem that you are a perv.”

Pitch could practically  _ feel  _ his wits leaving him when Jack looked at him like that. Curse the Guardian for being so damn pretty. So damn pretty and in  _ his  _ lap. If Jack was in even a  _ fraction  _ of better shape, he would have been rolling him over, admiring his bare body splayed in his precious snow before making hot and sweet love to him. They’d make a snow angel they’d never forget. “You like having a ‘perv’ for a boyfriend, do you?”

“I like having  _ you  _ for a boyfriend,” Jack shrugged with a little smirk, “The perv part comes standard with this model, I hear.” He leaned away again so he could get back to his rocking, and contemplating all the things they could do. They’d done hands, mouth, tongue, fingers…

Jack paused, because while hands had been traded and mouths had been traded, the tongue and fingers had only gone one way.  _ Jack’s  _ ass was sore, but Pitch’s was  _ pristine.  _ Except that Pitch…

“Um, remember that thing we talked about way back? That me fucking you thing?”

Pitch had to blink a few times as all those wonderful images filling his head were suddenly reversed. It wasn’t  _ bad _ per se… No, Jack would fucking own it and he’d look so hot about it too, so smug,  _ sexy _ … His dick definitely wasn’t opposed. He might have felt the smallest twinge of anxiety, because while he had  _ very  _ extensive knowledge of what was supposed to happen, he’d never…. Well alright, there may have been a brief self experimentation period, but he honestly didn’t remember much except coming away from it feeling more disgusted with his loneliness. And it was  _ so  _ so long ago that Pitch considered it irrelevant. What  _ did  _ matter was Jack, and Jack was hinting at the next thing he wanted knowing full well that Pitch only had one answer to give him. “Is it time for a taste of my own medicine?” 

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but seemed to lose every word in his head at the same time. That’s not a phrase people used for things they  _ wanted.  _ That was a… just desserts sort of phrase. A turnabout’s fair play kind of phrase. An all things are fair in love and war phrase. Jack found some words. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. We don’t have to if you don’t want to. That’s what I was gonna ask. If you were ready. But if you’re not, that’s totally okay. Okay?”

Pitch’s eyes were affectionate and his chuckle was endeared. There was no reason for him to think anything could go wrong in giving himself to Jack that way. The Guardian reminded him constantly of how much he loved the Shadowman without having to explicitly say the words. It was easy for Pitch to take the playful route, taking one of Jack’s hands and placing it low on his own hip, “Is that what you want, Jack? Do you want to fuck the Nightmare King?” 

Jack hesitated, because although nothing appeared to be wrong, Pitch wasn’t shifting nervously or speaking haltingly or, you know, doing anything that  _ Jack  _ was doing right now, it was still possible that he was just covering it up for Jack’s sake. The Guardian wasn’t interested in lying though, and there was no benefit to holding back, so he squeezed Pitch’s hip and went for it, “At the risk of pressuring you,  _ God yes,  _ I want to fuck you.”

“I want to know what it feels like,” he went on, because if it was worth saying at all, it was worth giving a complete answer, “I want to know what  _ you  _ feel like. I want… I want to see if I can make you feel how I do. I want to know if it really feels all that different from how I do. I want to do  _ everything  _ with you, and this is part of everything, so  _ yes.  _ Yes, I want to fuck the Nightmare King, because I’m in love with him and it could be really fun.”

There Jack went again, surprising him and reminding him just how deep his feelings went.  It was up there with being sung to, although Pitch didn’t feel that heat rising in him. Instead it was a fluttery feeling in his chest that had him blurting out the first thing he thought of to show that he reciprocated and wanted to make his lover happy, “It will be. You’ll have fun.  _ We’ll  _ have fun,” Pitch corrected at the last moment. 

There was an easy smile on his lips when he glanced behind himself and slowly lowered onto his back in the snow. He adjusted until he was comfortable, his hands resting idly on Jack’s thighs as he stared up at the Guardian. Fuck, he was about to submit himself completely to a  _ Guardian _ and Pitch had to chuckle at the thought, because who would have ever guessed? It didn’t change the truth of the matter, and really, could there have been a more appropriate setting, Valentine’s Day, lying in the cold and dark? “I want you to have me, Jack.” 

Socially inept frostling that he was, Jack had to remind himself that further questioning of Pitch’s wants was akin to calling him a liar. Besides, Pitch didn’t look like he didn’t know what he was doing, so Jack picked himself up and slowly kneeled between his boyfriend’s legs, gently nudging them apart so he could fit. He would just have to pay extra close attention and stop on his own if Pitch looked uncomfortable or uncertain or like he wasn’t enjoying himself at any point and oh God, there was so much responsibility on him this way, but if he did it right…

“I want you, Pitch,” Jack returned, beginning easy with the lightest touch between Pitch’s cheeks, not even reaching his entrance, just hinting at it. He trailed his fingers over the crease between thigh and torso, pressed his hands to Pitch’s lower abdomen, then to the outside, top, and inside of his thighs, just feeling around from a position he wouldn’t normally have and watching Pitch for any hint that he didn’t like being touched there.

Jack’s explorative touch would never  _ not  _ feel good. Pitch let himself relax under the treatment with a sigh, hands coming to rest on the other spirit’s shoulders so that he would be unobtrusive but still able to hold on. Jack was being so… patient. Of course he trusted the mischievous imp, but it always managed to awe him that as much as  _ he  _ strived to take care of Jack, Jack could, and  _ would,  _ return the favor. It was so sweet. Pitch might have not been under the full effects of lust yet, but love had his heart beating excitedly in his chest. 

And then all that sentimentality flew right out the window when his breath hitched, then hiccuped in something of a laugh the moment one of those cold fingers brushed over  _ something  _ along his inner thigh, “Nnh… Tickles…” 

Jack went back and tickled the spot some more, because he couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He stopped almost immediately, but let his hand hover as he bent down to place wet kisses on his lover’s chest, “Mm, does it?”

“Yes…” Pitch wanted to squirm, and his leg twitched a little bit, but when those lips hit his chest, he was rooted to his spot in the snow. Ticklish as that area was, it wasn’t worth interrupting where he was hoping Jack’s mouth would eventually go. He was giving Jack complete free reign of his body right now, for as long as he could stand it.  

Jack alternately pressed his tongue to Pitch’s chest and sealed his lips over that gray skin to suck, working his way toward a nipple with an unconcerned slowness. Jack’s focus wasn’t on his mouth, it was on his hands, which were nudging Pitch’s legs wider with gentle strokes, light pressure, and little trips of his fingers out to Pitch’s knees and back again. 

It was an effective distraction; Pitch was in a textbook spread eagle position from the waist down, wide open for however Jack wanted to touch him. But his focus was on Jack’s lips, and his fingers carded through fluffy white strands as the frostling inched along, breath hitching with anticipation. He felt good, but the pleasure was so  _ delicate _ , too delicate, and there was no staving off the little needy noise that tumbled from his lips. 

That was… a lot cuter than Jack was prepared for. Frankly, he had been so concerned with watching for discomfort that it hadn’t even occurred to him that Pitch might want Jack to  _ hurry up.  _ He rolled his eyes but it was with fond exasperation that he gripped Pitch’s cock and gave it a couple firm strokes to ease his need. “Better, Baby?”

That earned a more definitive moan, hips lifting off the snow to press into a hand like ice. “Better,” Pitch agreed, sounding appropriately distracted. He probably should have felt more indignant with the teasing but this was Jack’s round to command. And he’d done far worse when it came to teasing during sex. Still, he kept his back arched in case Jack felt like giving him  _ more _ , “You don’t… have to hold back, you know.” 

Jack bit down on Pitch’s chest in mild reprimand, but since his lover was making a point about it, Jack caved and brought his wayward hand back to Pitch’s entrance to feel it out a little more definitively this time, “I have to hold back exactly as much as I want to make sure we’re both having fun.”

Pitch was groaning one second and gasping the next, torn between two warring sensations, one a very much known turn on and the other so new and exciting and…  _ cold.  _ It was dawning on Pitch that this was going to be colder than usual, cold from the inside out. 

He wondered what it said about him when his dick throbbed at the thought. “Are you not having fun yet?” 

Jack pulled his fingers from Pitch’s entrance to pinch the inside of his thigh, then reached for the lube so he could do this properly, “I’m having lots of fun, and hope to keep it that way. Brat.”

Jack was going to get himself kicked that way. Fortunately, all Pitch managed to damage was a little snow from the knee-jerk reaction, but the little hair pull was entirely intentional, “ _ Brat? _ You have us confused, Jackie Boy.” 

“Really?” Jack asked in mock-surprise, pouring some lube on his fingers and immediately smearing it all over Pitch’s entrance since it wasn’t like he could wait for it to warm up or anything so considerate as that, “because one of us is being bratty right now and it isn’t  _ me.”  _

“How am  _ I  _ being bratty right now?” Pitch was honestly curious, but in more than one way. His eyes were watching what Jack was doing with his hands, those pretty, pale hands, and he was equal parts fascinated, impressed, and aroused. “You seem to know what you’re doing.” 

Jack snorted on a laugh and pumped Pitch’s cock as he pressed harder with his fingers, giving his boyfriend plenty of warning for what came next, “I’ve sort of had a lot of experience being in your position right now.”

“Mmm…” Pitch was very aware of what came next, but if he was at all worried about it, Jack was actively stroking any of that apprehension right out of him. The Guardian knew just how to touch him to take his breath away, there was no reason to think that wouldn’t translate to parts unknown. One of his legs came up, bending at the knee and planting his foot into the cold like the adjustment might give Jack better access somehow, “I’ve trained you well.”

Jack wasn’t sure if he was insulted or flattered, so he just smiled, shook his head, and turned his attention to Pitch’s ass, where it belonged anyway. He tried to be gentle as he worked his finger inside, massaging his way in with plenty of lube, “How does that feel?”

Pitch sucked in another breath, eyes falling shut as he was re-acquainted with a long forgotten sensation. Although, he might as well have been considered a virgin, because this was  _ Jack’s  _ finger inside him and nothing had  _ ever _ felt remotely like this before. The next sound that made it out of him was a choked off, helpless little laugh, “Honestly?  _ Cold, _ ” he took a moment to adjust his hips a bit before he added, “....But I kind of like it.” 

Jack nodded. He would have accepted a simple, ‘Not bad,’ but this was way cuter, so. He pushed it in deeper, slowly, as far as he could go, then pulled it out and did it again. One finger was nothing really, but Pitch had gone a literal  _ forever  _ without being comfortable enough for this, so Jack wanted his  _ mind  _ to be familiar with the feeling before things got tight and started to sting.

“Just let me know if you want to stop.”

Pitch nodded as well, a hand coming around to cup the side of Jack’s face, once again touched by that absolute patience. He probably hadn’t even been this patient with  _ himself _ , and maybe that’s why he didn’t recall anything overly pleasant from the experience. Right now, it wasn’t bad, he could handle the intrusion and the inevitable chill down his spine. There was even a little tremor of anticipation as he waited to see if Jack would find that same spot in him that always seemed to drive his boyfriend the best kind of crazy. “Of course. You’re doing fine, Darling.” 

“Not me I’m worried about,” Jack teased. He sped up his hand for only a couple short thrusts before he began working a second finger inside. Pitch was… tight, and Jack probably was more worried than he had to be. Their bodies were more resilient than they seemed, but all the same, Jack wanted this to be nothing but  _ good.  _

“I just…” Pitch started, brow furrowing with the addition of the next finger. He’d only started to comprehend what faster felt like and then he’d been hit with  _ thicker.  _ Now, he was feeling some of that stretch, and while he’d experienced  _ far  _ more excruciating things in his lifetime, this was ...different. This was him giving himself to someone when he was most  _ physically  _ vulnerable, and what he’d avoided like the plague in the past. The more he felt his inner muscles being pushed apart, the more meaningful it seemed. This was for Jack, and Gods, Jack had so willingly and  _ wantingly  _ given his body over to Pitch this way. The first time and every. single. time. afterward. It was a lot to consider. Too much to consider. The Nightmare King took a deep breath to try and relax his limbs. “I just appreciate that you’re taking your time with me.”

That wasn’t the happiest look that could be on Pitch’s face, so Jack went extra slow and added some more lube just in case it was getting a little dry and Jack’s cold fingers couldn’t tell. Distraction was probably appropriate, but Jack didn’t really like that thinking. Distraction was for flu shots when you didn’t like needles, not for your most intimate experiences that you were supposed to love. He didn’t want to feel like he was dangling a balloon off to the side while he stuck it in real quick. 

But keeping Pitch hot and interested wouldn’t hurt, so he leaned down to continue what he was doing with his tongue from earlier, “No rush. Sugar, I want to spend  _ all  _ my time with you.”

Little comments like that only further emphasized the intimacy of the experience, and Pitch’s lips twitched into a little smile as he pet Jack’s hair. The tongue painting its way across his chest certainly didn’t hurt either. He hummed appreciatively and after a few seconds decided to press his luck and move his hips down on Jack’s fingers. “ _ Ah _ … _ ”  _ It still didn’t hurt, but it did feel like that was ...closer? to what he wanted maybe? His whole body had shivered again, but he couldn’t tell if it was all because of the temperature. Fuck, this was so different than what he’d been expecting. “ _ Mm,  _ I love you too, Jack.” 

Jack chuckled, but he liked the direction this was going. He pressed his fingers in harder, giving Pitch what it seemed his body wanted and encouraging him to direct Jack even more, “I know, Baby. Does it feel good?”

“U-um…” Did ‘almost’ count as an answer? Whatever it felt like, Pitch was having trouble giving a coherent reply. He did seem to pick up on Jack’s renewed excitement, the way those fingers pressed in a bit rougher and… Maybe it was him? Pitch made another impatient noise and, now that he was more or less acquainted with having something inside him, squirmed a little this way, and a little that way, helping his lover find what he  _ knew  _ was there. His lips parted just when he was going to request Jack go deeper, but, “ _ Ah-! _ ” his hands were suddenly clawing at hair and skin, “Shit, okay,  _ there.  _ Right there, Jack…” 

It was almost out of Jack’s reach with just two fingers. He was pressed so hard into Pitch’s body, harder than he would have dared if Pitch hadn’t done it to himself. He wasn’t going to hold back on what his lover wanted, though. Pitch had done enough of that to  _ him  _ way back when and it wouldn’t feel like teasing so much as cruel and unusual punishment, especially since Jack really wanted in that ass. 

Like,  _ really  _ wanted in that ass. “Can I add another finger, Pitch?”

Pitch nodded unthinkingly, hands still clinging to Jack and breaths gradually becoming heavier. Fuck, it felt  _ good.  _ There was an underlying burn, which was all kinds of strange with the overwhelming  _ cold,  _ but with Jack’s hand moving and not leaving that spot alone… “ _ Uhhn… _ ” 

Except he had to, for that other finger. Jack gently, slowly, pulled his hand back, added fresh lube, and worked a third finger in. It was easier this time, probably because he’d been a little rough with the second. Jack couldn’t help the amused tone when he asked, “You will actually tell me if it’s too much, right?”

Pitch tried to look insulted at the question, but his expression was muddled between pleasure and surprise and curiosity and oh  _ stars  _ Jack had three fingers inside him and the knowledge of where to fuck him with them. It  _ was  _ borderline too much, but not in a way that Pitch wanted to stop. “I can handle you, Jack.” 

“I’m not doubting your delicious ass’ abilities, Pitch,” Jack soothed with some easy strokes to his lover’s insides, “I’m asking you to help  _ me  _ not make a mistake.”

Damn, it was difficult to assume his usual role of comfort and reassurance with Jack doing that. Pitch was even moving along with it, little shallow jerks of his hips to take those fingers deeper where he would need the stretch the most. “You won’t, you won’t. If I don’t like it, you’ll know.” 

That actually was reassuring. Jack gave Pitch’s chest more kisses for it. 

As Jack’s anxiety eased, his arousal took over. With Pitch so clearly enjoying his fingers, Jack felt free to enjoy them, too. He was  _ inside  _ Pitch, for the first time, and it was really hot.  _ “Mm,”  _ he grinned around every kiss, free hand wandering to touch thighs, waist, nipples, cock, exploring only for the purpose of  _ fun.  _ “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Oh but there was so  _ much  _ to take in already. Pitch felt like taking his time, head lolling back into the snow and exposing his neck to indulge the way Jack was spoiling him more comfortably. For once, he didn’t have that nagging feeling that he should have been doing more for his lover and it was impossible to tell if that was because he was literally handing his ass over to Jack, or if his mind was lost to the pleasure coming at him from all angles. 

They kept on like that, Jack molesting and gently finger fucking him while he arched and rolled his hips to it, for what was either hours or  _ seconds _ , Pitch couldn’t tell. It was when Jack had a hand on his cock that the impatience of lust kicked back in. He could have come just being victim to Jack’s exploration, but… that wasn’t enough. The Shadowman picked himself up, braced on an elbow, panting steadily, and reached out to take the lube that the Guardian had already gone through  _ half  _ of, “Come here and let me get  _ you  _ ready.” 

Jack had to pause. Was that a good idea? He shook himself. He was hot, yes, but he wasn’t on the edge of orgasm or anything. Pitch could touch him and he wasn’t going to come on the spot, it just kind of felt like he would. 

The frostling leaned back on his knees, then pushed as far forward between Pitch’s legs as he could get without climbing over them. He left his fingers right where they were, driving his boyfriend’s pleasure higher as he opened him up wider for what was coming. 

“You can reach me here, right?” 

Pitch managed another nod, even a bit of a smirk, but it didn’t last. Gray fingers normally so graceful were slipping on the little bottle, breaths coming out a bit faster with Jack still pushing in and out of him  _ just right _ . A shadow had to be summoned to help, holding the bottle up and ready to squeeze the oily substance out onto his waiting palm. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. He should have been slicking Jack up by now, but  _ Gods  _ it was so hard to concentrate on such little tasks. Pitch’s head tipped back again with a moan and he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, “ _ Fuck… _ ” 

Jack was amused. He didn’t let up, didn’t slow down, just hid his grin behind a dry tone and said, “I’m not  _ ready,  _ yet…”

Jack was fucking mocking him. It was Pitch’s own spiteful nature that battled through the haze of pleasure, got him to take his handful of lube, and make a grab for Jack’s cock in a tight fist. “ _ Now  _ you’re being the brat,” he hissed, palming the entire length of that erection that was very soon going to be inside him. 

Jack whined, a high keening sound, because that felt so good and yet... His hips bucked once before he could get a hold of himself, panting over Pitch’s bare body, “Do you want me inside you or not?”

It didn’t matter if Jack was ‘in charge’ right now, those noises out of him still made Pitch  _ ache.  _ He was thumbing over the slit of the cock in his hands when he gave his honest and breathless answer, “I want it, Jack.  _ I want you _ .” 

Jack couldn’t quite believe he  _ hadn’t _ come on the spot from the sound of those words in  _ that  _ voice. If he hadn’t after those words, after that grip, after staring down so long at the delicious view of a flushed, wet, panting and definitely aroused Pitch, then maybe he might last for this after all. 

It was finally time to take his fingers back, using his hands instead to lift Pitch’s legs and align their lower bodies, “Then can I have my cock back, now?”

There was no real way to be particularly snarky about dropping Jack’s dick, so Pitch just let it go, along with the notion that they needed to play a tit-for-tat game in the middle of sex. Right now, they had the same goal anyway. Pitch wrapped his arms loosely around Jack’s neck and let the anticipation eat at him while he tried to catch his boyfriend’s gaze. He was ready, but didn’t want to give Jack any more ammunition for his sass by  _ saying so.  _

Now that the time had come, Jack had one last moment of hesitation where he made sure to meet Pitch’s eyes and check for any doubt in his expression. This was a big step for them. It wasn’t lost on Jack that Pitch’s  _ too slow  _ approach to taking Jack had largely been a projected concern for his own ass, but he didn’t think either one of them was interested in quite that long a game this time around. 

He positioned his cock, pressing the tip to Pitch’s entrance, and stopped to let his lover get a feel for it, to let him anticipate and heighten the excitement… or give him a chance to freak out, if that was what he was going to do, “Still okay, Baby?”

Pitch was definitely not freaking out. Freaking out was  _ not  _ what that heavy pull in his loins meant. He was missing the sensation already,  _ wanting  _ something of Jack’s back inside him, and Gods, if this felt like teasing right now, he had to sympathize for what he put the frostling through before. 

He’d make it up to him later. Or maybe just let Jack have free reign on him for the rest of the night. Whatever. Pitch hiked his long legs up around the younger spirit’s slim waist and tugged him closer, “I’m fine. Do it already.”

That was a hard command to resist, although so was the irony, “You are  _ not  _ allowed to be impatient, Pitch.” With a teasing smile, Jack leaned in for a kiss, but it was a short one because he wanted to be able to see Pitch’s face when he slowly pushed inside. He was watching for discomfort, but instead got to see the way pleasure looked on Pitch as Jack filled him. It was an incredible experience that he would be forever thankful for. 

There was more of a stretch to be sure, and it did burn a little bit, but being as turned on as he was acted as the  _ best _ numbing agent. Pitch opened his mouth to try and say something, his natural reaction to Jack’s teasing, but all that came out was a deep groan. This feeling of being stretched open and  _ filled up _ was new and intense and actually not  _ as  _ cold as Jack’s fingers, but he could feel the chill in his core, deeper than where those fingers had reached. It was… _ exquisite _ . He was so happy he’d waited this long for Jack to come into his life and experience this with him. There would never be anything else like it. 

When it seemed Jack came to a stop, Pitch relaxed some of his clinging hold on him and took a shuddering breath. Somehow he was able to find his words again in the heat of the intimate moment, though nowhere as smooth as usual, “H-how is it, Jack?”

It was nice to hear in Pitch’s voice that Jack wasn’t alone in falling apart here. It was… so different from everything else. He had never felt so  _ surrounded  _ by pleasure and he already understood why Pitch loved this so much. He could only hope his boyfriend was feeling the same about why Jack liked the other end, too. 

He pressed his face into Pitch’s neck and shoulder, clinging to the Boogeyman with all of the strength that Pitch had just let up on. It felt good, it really did, but Jack had expected that. He knew it was only going to feel better when he started thrusting, but right now, Jack just wanted to feel  _ Pitch.  _ The texture, the pressure, the warmth,  _ “So fucking warm…”  _

“ _ Mmm _ …” Seemed he was making Jack feel warm  _ a lot  _ today, and Pitch was proud of himself, knowing what a rare and wonderful treat it was for the spirit of winter. For that reason alone, he would happily let Jack inside whenever he wanted. 

Though this heady, drug-like influence on his senses that was making him crave as much of Jack as his body could withstand made a repeat performance quite attractive too. He hadn’t even  _ come  _ yet and he was thinking about when they could do it again. There was just something  _ special  _ about them connecting in a new way, a way that no one ever had with Pitch Black. 

Fingers tangled in white hair while lips lined Jack’s shoulder with affectionate kisses, “You feel  _ good _ , my Prince. It’s cold, but it’s  _ good. _ ” 

“Do you think I can move, yet?” Jack asked suddenly, lifting his head just enough to bury into Pitch’s hair behind his ear. The frostling shivered from the pleasure and  _ anticipation.  _ He had so much more to feel. He didn’t want to push ahead before Pitch was ready, but he couldn’t help his excitement, either. “I really want to move.”

Pitch smiled, leaning into Jack and the almost ticklish way he was being nuzzled. Gods, he loved this spirit and his excitable energy. He hadn’t quite anticipated this to be as much of an emotional experience as a physical one, but there was no helping the pounding in his chest. 

Soon to be followed by the pounding in his ass. Oh  _ stars _ … 

“Kiss me first?” the shade asked softly. 

Jack immediately picked his head up to seek out Pitch’s lips. It was a great idea. A kiss was the perfect outlet for Jack’s thrumming excitement while he basked in the feeling of Pitch all around him. 

The Nightmare King caught those lips and locked their mouths as intimately as their hips were, using his hold on Jack’s hair to tilt his head for the best angle. He had his lover in every sense now, except sight was fading fast when his eyelids were falling closer and closer to shut. Somehow he got the feeling he wasn’t going to be able to keep his eyes open for most of this anyway. Pitch wasn’t complaining. 

As their tongues twirled in a familiar dance, the Boogeyman eventually decided he wanted Jack to start moving too, just to make this more impossibly perfect. He wanted  _ more  _ of that coldness flooding through him. Taking a page out of his nimble frostling’s book, one of his feet slid down and over the curve of Jack’s ass where he gave him an encouraging nudge forward,  _ further  _ inside, and then Pitch was sucking up as much of their mingled breath as his lungs could contain.

Jack made a truly indecent sound and bit at Pitch’s lips. That was hot. He definitely understood why Pitch got a little crazy every time he did that kind of foot thing, now. It made Jack want to hurry up and give Pitch  _ everything,  _ but Jack wasn’t done exploring what this was like, yet. 

He pulled out slowly, feeling the drag of Pitch’s body against his cock and moaning helplessly at how  _ good  _ it was. He pushed back in much the same. Jack tried different things, like pushing down or pulling up, like shorter strokes or longer ones. He tried pushing in as hard as he could, watching Pitch’s face for any signs that what he was doing wasn’t exactly as hot for Pitch as it was for him, but Jack was also running out of ideas and the patience to act on them and it wasn’t much longer before he was figuring out a rhythm and hoping it was right.

Damnit, as soon as he’d manage to catch some of his breath, Jack had to go make Pitch lose it. What was he thinking thrusting in so hard like that? Pitch felt his  _ whole body  _ shudder and shiver and  _ fuck,  _ he liked it. He liked it a lot, each and every way Jack wanted to play with his new position. “ _ Jack,”  _ he whispered into the Guardian’s mouth, growing accustomed to the in and out, the pull and slide against muscles he couldn’t remember ever using, and knowing it was  _ Jack’s  _ cock rearranging him permanently… 

In spite of all the cold, Pitch was left with enough heat for a flush to appear on his cheeks. He was so fucking aroused. “Gods,  _ Jack _ …” 

Pitch looked good like that. Jack’s arms weren’t used to holding himself up like this, but he was getting used to it. The ache was easy to ignore when his dick felt  _ so fucking good.  _ Everything was good, everything but his voice, which broke when he tried to say Pitch’s name. 

His hips had taken on a mind of their own, pushing into Pitch’s body again and again without consulting his brain first. It might have been too hard, it might have been too fast, but Jack couldn’t ask and Pitch looked pleased about it, so he didn’t try very hard to stop. He didn’t want to stop. He  _ never  _ wanted to stop. 

Pitch didn’t want him to stop either. He  _ wanted  _ the raw, sloppy haste of Jack’s first fuck. It wasn’t quite as precise as the Guardian’s fingers, but he didn’t care. The Shadowman could adjust, he was moving when Jack moved, rolling his hips at first but gradually changing his tactic to push  _ forward _ , letting that cock seep further inside of him. 

He loved the view he had too. No, it wasn’t terribly different from the times Jack would ride him hard enough to make the globe rattle, but the ecstasy painted on that beautiful face, all from his accepting Jack in him, was something to be cherished. Pitch claimed those lips again,  _ rougher _ , and grabbed onto his own cock to pump as Jack drove him further into the snow. 

Jack whined against Pitch’s lips, losing himself to the pleasure and welcoming that delicious tongue inside. He was breathing hard, the excitement and arousal making him feel light-headed as he rocked into Pitch’s body over and over. The knot of pleasure coiling low in his stomach grounded him in the moment, undeniable need urging him on. It took a couple tries and a harsh swallow around Pitch’s tongue but he finally managed to confess, “I’m gonna come…”

The news made Pitch smirk, a little twitch at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t as close as Jack but he was most definitely getting there, and he moaned when he started working himself faster like he was trying to catch up. 

But as always, the Nightmare King wanted his Prince to have his turn first, so he tugged at Jack’s bottom lip with his teeth and tempted him with a salacious and needy tone, “ _ Come.  _ I want you to come inside me, Jack…” It wasn’t just a line either. He liked wearing every other type of Jack’s signature, and he couldn’t imagine why getting an ass full of it would be any different.

Jack could feel what Pitch’s hand was doing between them, and it really just… made  _ everything  _ that much hotter. After all this time, he knew what Pitch wanted from him, but hearing him say it sent a shiver that had nothing to do with cold racing down his spine, and Jack was lost. He took Pitch’s lips in a last, harsh kiss that muffled his cry when he came inside his lover for the first time.

It was probably the  _ warmest  _ aspect of being fucked by Jack Frost. Gods, it felt… wet and messy and  _ full,  _ but the cold was comfortable _.  _ Pitch was more struck by the strangeness of being smothered from the inside, smothered in  _ Jack.  _

Oh, but now it was  _ that _ much slicker for Jack to move within him and there was the sensation of what had been forced  _ in _ trying to trickle  _ out _ . Pitch might have been disappointed he couldn’t indulge in the feeling longer if it weren’t for the fact that Jack’s base, jerky thrusts had finally struck him in that perfect place. Never before had he been more grateful for the winter spirit’s glacial circulation. That dick was still firm and strong and  _ pushing  _ and “ _ Ah-!”  _ The Boogeyman broke the kiss to moan, frantically working his own cock, “Stars, Jack,  _ don’t stop! _ ” 

That was a tall order when every bone in Jack’s body was turning to jelly, but he managed. He fell to his elbows, face pressed into Pitch’s shoulder and damn near getting punched in the stomach by that rapidly pumping fist, but his hips didn’t stop, not for anything. 

His fingers curled around that dark skin, now that his hands didn't have to support him. He held Pitch tight and did what he thought might be just what Pitch needed, a firm bite down on the delicate skin of his collar.

Oh  _ fuck,  _ oh  _ Gods _ … Pitch didn’t know how a half-delirious Jack managed to hit the nail right on the fucking head, but a little pain mixed in with his pleasure and heat and cold and wet and  _ everything  _ sent him catapulting over the edge with a shout of Jack’s name into the darkness. 

With heavy pants, Pitch wrapped his arms around the Guardian in a weak cling at best, “ _ Nmm _ …  _ Jack _ …”

Jack was  _ tired  _ but unbelievably happy. He liked that tone out of the Nightmare King’s mouth, so much so that he had to get a taste of it. He took Pitch’s lips for a long, lazy kiss while he waited for them to descend back to Earth. 

It was predictable, the way their Valentine’s skate date ended with them naked and all over each other, but Jack wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. And Pitch… There was no way they were getting on the ice again, his teeth were chattering as it was, so he took them home through the shadows with the pride of a plan gone  _ right _ , and settled them in by the fireplace in the music room amidst a heap of pillows they donned ‘Fort Butterknife.’ 

A tiny smile graced the Guardian’s lips as he tucked a blanket around Pitch and thought about the way they took care of each other, about what a night it had been. It was a thought that ultimately reminded him that it technically wasn’t  _ over.  _ He groaned in a helpless way, “Oh my God, do we really have, like,  _ two more  _ rounds to go?...”

For once, the thought of another round of sex  _ did  _ seem daunting to the Nightmare King. That was new. He kind of felt like groaning along with Jack, but he refrained and tried a different angle, “Ah… You know, eight out of ten isn’t a bad rank. It’s in the passing range.”

Jack’s head shot up to stare at Pitch in a mix of excitement and wary trepidation, “Have I seriously found the  _ end  _ of your libido?!”

….That was… Pitch pouted in the face of that sudden enthusiasm. “Why do you find that so  _ exciting _ ?”

Jack paused, because he didn’t mean to hurt Pitch with his words, it was just… “Honestly? It makes you a little more… I don’t know. Human? Like me? Kind of?”

Pitch scoffed but he remained content in his cocoon with his head against Jack’s chest, “Is it official then? Are we waving the white flag?”

Jack considered the idea, the state of his body, the state of  _ Pitch’s  _ body, and the way that last kiss in the snow had made him feel. They were done for right now, definitely, but they were still planning to make coffee and tea later and curl up in their proper nest and who knew, maybe he’d feel like sucking Pitch off again?

So he shrugged, “Let’s see how we feel, but for now, focus on getting warm, okay?”

… Gods, Jack’s reluctance to give up and  _ resilience _ should not have made Pitch feel so hopeful, so  _ giddy,  _ but there was an unmistakable shiver of anticipation that shot down the length of his spine. He had the best boyfriend. There was a simmering heat in his golden eyes with the unspoken possibilities and Pitch grinned, “I’m  _ quite  _ warm now.”

Jack had the most amused, most unimpressed look on his face when he asked, “Are you seriously making innuendo  _ already?”  _

Pitch nuzzled obnoxiously against Jack’s cheek with his own, “Just because my cock is spent, my ass stings, and ninety percent of my muscles are sore doesn’t mean the desire isn’t still there.” 

Jack laughed and wrapped his arms around Pitch’s neck in delight, “You are  _ terrible  _ and I  _ love it!”  _

Pitch chuckled, eating up all of Jack’s happiness with an easy smile, “I’m the Nightmare King for a reason.” 

A Nightmare King who on that night discovered that he definitely had a second favorite holiday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated Valentine's~


End file.
